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“Hazamada, I need your help,” Keicho muttered from his bed, he had been released from the hospital after a long recovery time from his encounter with Akira, and he was still refusing help from Josuke.
“What is it Keicho? I already told you the notes I take in class are the best ones you’re going to get,” Hazamada replied absentmindedly as he rifled through his school bag. He had been taking notes for the blonde as well as bringing him his missing school work so he would still be able to graduate on time, despite being out of class.
“No, it’s got nothing to do with school… Well, mostly nothing,” Keicho replied, shaking his head as he slowly pushed fried hair from his face. “It’s one of our classmates, I shot her with the stand arrow shortly after I shot you… She manifested a stand and she needs to be stopped before Akira gets in her head,”. That made Hazamada pause, turning to look at his scarred friend.
“What?” He asked, watching as Keicho sighed, “I already got my ass clobbered by Josuke and now you want me to fuck around with more stand users? Who did you even shoot?” Sure Hazamada would’ve done whatever Keicho wanted, and he had only agreed to work with Akira in order to get closer to the man so he could avenge his friend, but he still wasn’t confrontational by any means.
“She’s a second year… Shinobi Yoru… She used to follow me around everywhere and I finally got fed up and hit her with the arrow,” Keicho explained with a sigh, “I didn’t get to properly study her stand given all that happened afterwards but.. If she’s anything like you, her stand is going to be pretty strong,”
“What do you mean ‘like me’?” Hazamada immediately got defensive. He knew for a fact Keicho wasn’t trying to say he was a strong person, because he wasn’t. Surface had a sickeningly powerful ability, but that came from the fact that Hazamada had a sordid personality… “Hey! Are you saying I’m a shitty person?” Hazamada snapped once the dots connected in his head. Sure Keicho wasn’t wrong, but it hurt to hear it from someone who was supposed to be his closest friend.
“Haz, you know I don’t mean it as a personal insult, I’m just saying she’s similarly creepy, so her ability is probably similar to Surface… I’d hate for Akira to get a hold of her and cause more issues,” Keicho explained, and yeah, when Hazamada got over his inflated offense and really thought of Shinobi… That would be bad.
Shinobi was a fujoshi, and she was unabashedly unashamed of that fact. She would read some of the filthiest yaoi manga Hazamada had ever seen in class, hiding them quite poorly behind her notebooks. Her large glasses would fog up and she’d spring nosebleeds at least twice a week. If Keicho was right, she was just as, if not more shitty than Hazamada in regard to personality. She was a shut-in, always mumbling to herself about the hot guys in her classes, and Hazamada knew for a fact she was shipping her classmates as if they were fictional characters in her stupid manga.
“So you want me to do what exactly? Tell Josuke to keep an eye out for her?” Hazamada asked as he finally brought Keicho’s homework over to him. “Because that pompous dickhead won’t even look at me, let alone listen to a thing I have to say. You’d probably be better off telling Okuyasu to handle it,”
“No… Okuyasu shouldn’t get anywhere near her,” Keicho insisted, “I need you to handle it, because you and her probably have something in common, you both always have your nose in a manga, and you’re both loners. If she hears it from someone like Jotaro or Josuke, I can’t guarantee that it would be effective,” Even in his state, Keicho was more concerned with keeping his brother safe, albeit in a weird work-around way.
“If I do this, you need to let Josuke heal you,” Hazamada stated, staring Keicho down as he said it. He watched as Keicho’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’m doing you a huge favor, so you can do me a huge favor and let that brat fix your ugly mug. If I gotta keep staring at it when I help you study, I would rather stare at something less mangled,” Hazamada insisted, watching as Keicho grit his teeth before relenting.
“Alright, I’ll have Okuyasu call him over tomorrow, but you need to talk to Shinobi… Deal?” Keicho finally said with a sigh when Hazamada nodded. Their relationship was an odd one if anything, but Hazamada was happy to know Keicho at least had enough respect for him to make deals.
Sure enough, finding Shinobi was as easy as Keicho had said it was going to be. She was in the library during lunch, with her nose deep in a BL that Hazamada couldn’t recognize. Not that he was the type to read BL anyways… But he had seen a few covers in the shops before.
“Shinobi, we need to talk,” Hazamada started, plopping his school bag on the table she was sitting at, with the sudden sound causing her to yelp and look up at him.
“O-Oh… Good afternoon H-Hazamada-san, what can I do for you?” She stammered, face flushed as she looked up at him from where she sat. Despite the fact that he was talking to her, she did not put the manga she was reading away, and from what Hazamada could see, it was a particularly raunchy scene.
“Keicho told me about shooting you with the arrow yesterday,” Hazamada started, keeping his voice low and his expression tough. “I need you to tell me what power you gained from it, we all know you have one… Everyone who gets shot with that arrow gets one. What’s it name and what does it do, it’s important,” the mention of the blonde sent an even fiercer blush across Shinobi’s face as she continued to stare up at Hazamada.
“Y-You and Keicho were t-talking about me?” She asked, completely ignoring the question Hazamada had posed to her, which only served to piss him off. “Y-You and Keicho hang out together?!” She added, seemingly excited to learn something new about some of her fellow male students.
“What? Yes, I bring him his school work while he’s out recovering from his accident, but that’s not what I’m talking about!” Hazamada snapped as he glared down at her. “You have a stand, that’s what that mysterious power you gained is called. What is your ability?” Hazamada pushed bringing his hand down on the table as he narrowed his eyes at the younger girl.
“O-Oh my… Hazamada-san… You’re s-so forward,” She stuttered, blushing even harder as she finally closed her manga, “You remind me of my favorite character from my manga series… He’s always so pouty,” When Hazamada glanced down at her manga he felt a fierce blush race across his own face. On the cover of the manga there were two boys embracing in a sensual way. One was a tall, muscular blonde, while the other was short with long black hair. Was she saying what he thought he thought she was saying? Oh that bitch was insane!
“Shinobi can you fuckin’ focus!? Dumb bitch… Your stand’s name and ability! Now! Or else I’ll have to use mine and I’ll force it out of you!” Hazamada was bluffing obviously, he still hadn’t replaced Surface’s physical form, and a part of him was hesitant to. It was too expensive to just go and buy another model, and he didn’t want to run the risk of Jouske pounding his face in as he had promised to do, so he just accepted the fact that Surface’s voice would be in his head for the unforeseen future.
“Well that’s no way to speak to a lady!” Shinobi retorted, crossing her arms as she pouted up at Hazamada, which only made the seventeen year old scoff.
“A lady? Please… You’re just a braindead fujoshi. No lady who respects herself goes around and reads that garbage in public!” Hazamada hissed, his brows knitting as he grew increasingly fed up with her. Sure he was a hypocrite, given that he was also a shitty otaku who rotted his brain with porn when he was alone. But he only did it when he was alone… and sometimes in class when no one was looking but that was besides the point! “Now what is your stand? Keicho needs to know!”
“You’re horrible!” Shinobi snapped as Hazamada finally noticed the tears in her eyes, “Horrible horrible horrible! And to think I was hoping you were gonna ask me out!” That comment took Hazamada off guard… Him? Ask her out? Yeah right. Not in a million years. Sure he was a piece of shit, but he had standards. “If you wanna know my stand so badly, why don’t I give you a first-hand experience!” She continued, standing up abruptly from her seat. She wasn’t much taller than Hazamada was, but she was now looking down at him. “Love Trilogy! Get him wasted!” She hissed as she pointed her finger right in his face.
Sure enough, once she had called on her stand, the thing manifested right behind her. It was small, perched on Shinobi’s shoulder. It had pink scaly skin, with a lot of thin, yellow spikes coming out of its head, almost like porcupine quills. Hazamada watched its beady yellow eyes focus on him as it hissed out, raising its hand at him, revealing three long red claws. Hazamada grabbed his bag and jumped back, eyes wide as he watched the stand lunge forward at him. He turned to run, figuring that he had failed and would have to involve Jotaro, against Keicho’s wishes.
Just when he thought he was out of its range and safe, he felt three piercing blows to his back. He looked over his shoulder and watched the stand lower its hand. The fucker had shot its claws at him, clattering it jagged teeth together to celebrate its success before it returned to its user.
“You jerk… Akira was right about you…” Shinobi sniffled as she fell back into her chair, bringing her hands up to her eyes, shifting her glasses up to wipe at the large tears she was letting out. “I hope you suffer… I hope you suffer so badly… I hope it hurts…” she weeped, and that was enough for Hazamada, who ran from the library as fast as his legs could carry him.
He hadn’t stopped running until he felt a wave of heat fall over him. Hazamada rested his back against the wall as he gulped down large breaths of air. He knew he wasn’t the most athletic person in the world, but he was in shape… He played for the tennis team after all; A run like this shouldn’t have taken this much breath from his lungs.
“Her… Her stand,” Hazamada muttered to himself as he tried and failed to catch his breath. He found that as the seconds ticked by, it grew harder to keep himself standing. “Shit… Keicho was right…” he mumbled as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his beeper in an attempt to get a message out to him. Then his mind locked onto Keicho and for some reason the blonde was becoming the only thing he could think about.
He wasn’t sure where he got the strength from, but he had managed to peel himself off the wall as sweat coated his body. Hazamada’s entire body was on fire, and all he could think as he staggered off was getting to Keicho. Why he was so hyper focused on that? He had no idea, but it was all he could think about and the only thing that was driving him forwards, so he went with it.
Skipping school wasn’t that big of a deal for him, sure he wasn’t a frequent skipper, but his mom was usually too drunk to care if she got a call from the school, and his father was never home. What was more disturbing, at least to what Surface pointed out, was that he was skipping school to seek out Keicho’s attention. He had never been all that eager to hang out with the blonde before. Sure he hung around his hospital room while he was in recovery, but that was more because no one else would hang out with him and the blonde couldn’t leave. Now Hazamada was just shambling like a zombie towards the Nijimura house, hoping that Keicho would be up when he got there.
His entire body felt so bizarre, he was far too hot, and his mind was growing completely enveloped in a thick haze. The only clear thought he could formulate was Keicho and his eyes. Those striking green eyes, staring at him… or glaring… Hazamada wasn’t sure which he preferred. He knew something was wrong given that even Surface’s sharp tone was muffled by this mind-fog, but he couldn’t really follow that thought to a reasonable conclusion. He had been hit with a stand, his body was hot, and his mind was foggy, and he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do about that, outside of seeing Keicho.
His hands were shaky as he brought the key to the front door, thankful that Keicho had given him a copy so he could drop off homework and class notes whenever he was free. He was surprised he could even manage to work the lock given his state, but he figured that he could worry about it later, especially once he finally succeeded in unlocking the door and stepping inside.
Shoes were pulled off lazily and his bag was dropped off at the door, with him struggling to put one foot in front of the other. Something that ebbed at the back of his mind, only managing to make it through the mental haze ever so slightly were the last words Shinobi had actually said to him.
“I hope you suffer… I hope it hurts” What could she have possibly meant by that? Sure he wasn’t the most comfortable, but he wasn’t in a lot of pain. If anything he felt dumber and heavier as he made his way up the old creaky stairs of Keicho’s home. By the half-way point, Hazamada felt like he couldn’t keep himself upright. He was too weak, and too hot, but he needed to get up to Keicho’s room, so he resolved himself to crawl up the rest of the way.
“Dad? Is that you?” Keicho called out from his room. Hazamada lifted his head almost immediately as he heard the blonde’s voice, and suddenly the heat that filled his body doubled in intensity, pulling a strangled moan out from Hazamada’s lips.
That was weird… Hazamada didn’t moan out like that usually… He sounded… well he sounded lewd, and if he was in his right state of mind, the short man would have been absolutely mortified. He was being reduced to such a state and he wasn’t even really aware of it.
“Dad? What…” Keicho’s voice called out again before Hazamada heard the shuffling of someone getting up. No… Keicho was supposed to be taking it easy… He wasn’t supposed to be up and walking. But if he was up and walking, that just meant he would see Keicho sooner.
“Kei-” Hazamada’s words died on his tongue as he looked up at the man he had been thinking about non-stop since Shinobi shot him with her stupid stand. The blonde had been healed, all his scarred skin had been reverted to its original form, his fried hair was back to being beautiful and long, cascading down his back in blonde waves, and he was in nothing but grey sweatpants, looking down at Hazamada with a confused look on his face.
“Hazamada? What the hell are you doing here? And what’s wrong with your face?” Keicho asked, leaning down to pick the shorter man up off the ground. He lifted Hazamada to his feet, only for the shorter man to be unable to keep himself up, sending him careening into Keicho once more, with his face landing right dead center of Keicho’s torso.
The feeling of Keicho’s bare skin on his face unlocked a heaven Hazamada didn’t know existed. His entire body grew unbearably hot as he found himself smiling against Keicho’s body.
“Christ, you’re burning up!” Keicho muttered, as he grabbed Hazamada by the shoulders, pulling him away from his chest. “What the hell happened to you? Did you find out anything about Shinobi’s stand? Did she do this to you?” The questions came at Hazamada so quickly and his brain wasn’t registering them at all. He just smiled dumbly up at Keicho, trying his best to think of something to say.
“She said I was horrible,” He purred, still grinning up at Keicho as he brought both his hands to grab at Keicho’s wrists, “You don’t think I’m horrible… Do you?” he asked, although it came out more as a coo than a genuine question, “I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if you thought I was horrible,” Hazamada couldn’t stop himself from spewing all his deepest thoughts, some that he hadn’t even realized that he had up at the blonde, who looked terribly confused.
“Hazamada… Shinobi’s stand. What is the name of Shinobi’s stand?” he insisted, trying to pull a straight answer out of Hazamada. “Come on, you have to tell me… She did this to you right? You said she called you horrible?”
“She said she hoped I suffered Keicho… But I don’t think this is suffering~” He continued as he relaxed into Keicho’s arms. He felt so much better now that Keicho was right in front of him, and touching him. Yes… He wanted more of that. He wanted Keicho to touch him, to strip him bare… To have his way with him.
“Toshikazu!” Keicho snapped as he shook the smaller man, “What is the name of Shinobi Yoru’s stand!? Tell me goddamnit!” He shouted, which finally seemed to snap some semblance of clarity into Hazamada’s mind, if only for a fleeting second.
“She said it was… Love Trilogy… and its ability, the thing she hit me with… it shot its claws right at me,” Hazamada managed before the fog returned to him, clouding his memory again. “Ugly little thing… All pink and yellow and red… You don’t think I’m ugly do you? So many people do…” Hazamada trailed off, his head lolling forwards as he lost more control of himself.
“That’s good Hazamada, you got it,” Keicho praised, which seemed to be the wrong thing to do since it made Hazamada squeal in glee, “I need to write this down, c’mon,” He muttered, dragging Hazamada to his room. He seemed to completely ignore Hazamada’s state, which was honestly kind of erotic to Hazamada.
Keicho was always so focused in everything he did, that was why Bad Company was an army, perfect in order and execution. Just like Keicho was. This was the most casual Hazamada had seen him, and despite him being out of commission for a hot minute, he seemed to be just as fit as he had been when Akira had attacked him. Perhaps the work of Crazy Diamond, but Hazamada could care less as he allowed himself to be led to Keicho’s bed. He watched as Keicho sat at his desk, grabbing a small black notebook before he began writing frantically.
“How did it do this to you Toshikazu? Do you remember?” Keicho asked, glancing at Hazamada, who was growing quite comfortable in melting into Keicho’s mattress.
“It shot stuff at me… Right in the back… It hurt so bad Keicho,” He mewled as he struggled to work the belts on his uniform. He just wanted the damn thing off. Hazamada was starting to get uncomfortably hot… He needed to peel off the layers he had on, and it was impossible when his hands felt boneless.
Within seconds of Keicho registering what Hazamada had said, he was up and towering over Hazamada, bringing his hands quickly to the other’s belts, practically ripping them off in order to get Hazamada out of his school uniform. Hazamada couldn’t help but giggle as his face grew more flushed, once the jacket was off, his shirt followed suit, exposing his pale chest to the taller man, who seemed to not care at all. Then Keicho flipped him on his stomach, pulling another strangled noise from Hazamada’s throat.
“Yeah, you’ve got three marks on your back… Bright red too, they look like kiss marks,” Keicho mused, glancing both at the marks and a curious scar that was on Hazamada’s back, before he moved to take more notes. “And can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Keicho asked, although he wasn’t met with a response. “Toshikazu?” He asked, looking back to find Hazamada with his ass up in the air.
“It’s too hot,” He whined as he fumbled with his belt, failing again with his useless hands. “Keicho… Help me… it’s too hot,” his voice was high-pitched and almost embarrassing. He sounded nothing like himself, but he was getting increasingly uncomfortable, to the point where it was starting to get painful. It felt like he was being scalded from the inside, and all that heat was starting to pool in his groin.
It seemed like his miserable state finally pulled Keicho’s attention away from learning more about Shinobi’s stand, as he stood up from his desk and forced Hazamada on his back once more, looking down at the smaller man. His flushed face was practically beet red, and the fluster was travelling down his body. His nipples were erect in a way that seemed almost comically pornagraphic and his hands were pawing uselessly at his belt. The only thing that truly caught Keicho’s eye was another scar that was right below Hazamada’s chest, jagged and ugly, almost identical to the one on his back. This one however, looked a lot worse.
“What the hell kind of stand does this?” Keicho questioned as he stared down at Hazamada’s face. The other’s jaw was slack and his eyebrows were twisted upwards as he stared up at the blonde. He couldn’t even think past the unbearable heat, and the fact that Keicho’s eyes were glued to him.
“N-Need… Keicho… Need-” Hazamada gasped as he stared up at the blonde. He was utterly useless like this, he needed respite. He needed Keicho, what for? He couldn’t even comprehend it. He just needed the other to do things to him, to take advantage of his useless body, to make him useful. “Need you,” he moaned out as his hands attempted and failed to grab at the blonde.
“Toshikazu you aren’t thinking straight,” Keicho muttered as he took a step away from Hazamada’s body. From his position he could clearly see that the other had popped a boner, and that told him exactly what Hazamada needed. “What do you need?” He asked, nabbing his notebook in an attempt to continue to take notes on the effect Shinobi’s stand was having on the other man.
“Need… dick,” Hazamada finally admitted, the deepest thought that he had locked within the darkest parts of himself sprang forward, exposing himself to the blonde in a way he never intended to happen. “Need your dick,” he added, voice trailing off in a filthy giggle. If he had been himself he would have rather committed suicide, and yet he was still there, writhing on Keicho’s bed, begging the man to fuck him.
“So this is the true power of her stand?” Keicho muttered, unable to really do much else. He made note of it quickly before abandoning the book altogether. “I can’t do that Hazamada, I need to see how long this lasts,” the second he denied Hazamada of what he had desired, the short man let out a desperate wail as his hand shot out, violently grabbing Keicho’s wrist.
“N-no… I need it… Keicho… I’ll die… It’s too hot,” Hazamada gasped, looking up at the blonde with the most desperate, needy eyes he had ever seen. “You.. you can’t leave me… not like this… please Keicho… I don’t wanna die… I’m so hot… I’ll die,” he whined, now knelt on Keicho’s bed before him, grip tightening on the blonde’s wrist.
As bizarre as it sounded, Keicho almost pitied him. It was his fault that this happened after all. He had sent Hazamada to go interrogate Shinobi, he was the one who assumed the girl had been harmless. He knew about Hazamada’s temper, and his impulsivity and he pressed him to go anyway. And now Hazamada was on his knees before him, begging Keicho for relief. He had to do something. It would be cruel not to.
“Toshikazu, I can’t give you what you want,” Keicho reaffirmed despite his inner dialogue. “You aren’t yourself, the only reason you’re like this is because of Shinobi’s stand,” He added, which seemed to get the opposite reaction he wanted from Hazamada.
“Y-You… I need… Keicho,” Hazamada whined as his eyes began to well up with tears, “Why won’t you… I’m…” Keicho watched, almost horrified as Hazamada began to sob and cry, unable to catch his breath as he fell forwards, leaning against Keicho’s chest. “Why? I… I’m gonna die,” Hazamada wept, even his tears were hot when they hit Keicho’s skin. His state put Keicho in a much more difficult position as he watched Hazamada practically tear himself apart.
“You aren’t going to die Toshikazu,” Keicho managed to say, bringing a hand to Hazamada’s hair. He didn’t know that for certain though… Hazamada was practically boiling, he very well could die, especially if his internal temperature got hot enough. Maybe he didn’t have a choice… If he let Hazamada die like this, what kind of person would that make him?
He allowed Hazamada to rest against his chest as he pondered what the hell his next move should be. The smaller man continued to sob, and beg, and hiccup against him. His cries only made Keicho feel more complicated about the entire situation. Hazamada definitely wasn’t attractive by any stretch of the word. He was short and feminine looking for a man. His eyes were black and beady, and he always wore the worst expressions on his face. He was a shitty person, and Keicho knew all too well about how he liked to take his anger out on small animals. But in the same breath, Hazamada had nice hips, and a pretty decent ass, and his lips were plump and pouty. His hair, albeit on the greasier side, did manage to frame his face well. He was also scarily loyal to Keicho, standing by him to the point of putting himself in danger with his idea of betraying Akira once he got close enough, although he never saw it through.
“I- I don’t wanna die like this,” Hazamada whimpered as he looked up at Keicho. He was such an ugly crier, with his eyes puffy as he struggled to take in enough breath to keep himself conscious. “Please… I… I won’t tell anyone,” he added, hands finally pawing at the waistband of Keicho’s sweatpants. “I’ll be good… I promise I’ll be good… please,” he whispered, trying his best to swallow back his choked up sobs.
It wasn’t until Hazamada’s hand ghosted over Keicho’s cock that the blonde realized how aroused this scenario had made him. He wasn’t one to prefer one gender over another, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t find Hazamada at least a little cute. It wasn’t that he himself was opposed, but the fact that Hazamada had been reduced to this state by a stand that was keeping him back.
“Alright, I’ll give you what you want,” Keicho finally said, watching as Hazamada rejoiced at his words. He looked like he was about to fall into delirious thanks as he rested his head back on Keicho’s chest, still sobbing, although it sounded more to be happy tears than wounded ones.
Keicho pushed Hazamada down onto his bed, before turning to make sure his bedroom door was locked. He had a feeling Okuyasu would come barging home within the hour, and if this stand ability worked as Keicho assumed it did, he did not want to traumatize his younger brother. When he returned to Hazamada, the smaller man was practically trembling with anticipation.
“When this is all said and done, you are telling me the story behind this scar,” Keicho stated, pressing his finger into the scar that had caught his attention. Hazamada nodded frantically, clearly willing to do whatever Keicho wanted to have his attention. Hazamada couldn’t even recognize what Keicho was talking about as he laid out on the other’s bed, he was solely focused on how Keicho’s hands moved across his body.
The blonde made quick work of Hazamada’s belt, practically tearing it from Hazamada’s belt loops, which caused the other to let out a moan as he watched Keicho pull his pants off. He was so lost in his own mind that his body moved upwards to meet Keicho’s touch automatically.
Sure enough, Hazamada’s cock was standing at full attention, dribbling pre-cum from the tip and throbbing when it was exposed to the air of Keicho’s room. Just as Keicho had suspected, it was much smaller than average, which he assumed was a point of self-consciousness for the other. Thankfully, Hazamada seemed completely without shame as he huffed up at Keicho, clearly wanting the other to be in a similar state of undress.
“When you said you need me, what do you mean?” Keicho asked, figuring he could turn this into another avenue of studying Shinobi’s stand. He could do two things at once, it was something he had always been good at.
“Need you…” Hazamada responded as he let out a breathless noise, staring up at Keicho. Now that he really paid attention to Hazamada’s face, he could see that his pupils were almost in the shapes of hearts, which was quite freaky. No doubt an effect of the stand, which was something Keicho would make note of.
“I know you need me Toshi, you keep saying so,” Keicho stated, keeping his voice soft as he finally moved to take his own pants off, “How do you need me?” He didn’t need to ask that, he had a feeling he already knew. Maybe this wasn’t just for research… Perhaps he was enjoying playing with Hazamada in this way.
“Keicho~” Hazamada whined out as he watched the other’s cock spring free as Keicho pulled his sweats and boxers down. It seemed like the second Keicho’s dick was in his line of sight, it was the only thing Hazamada could focus on, and if it hadn’t been for the fact he knew a stand was involved, he would have been flattered.
“I know Toshi, I know,” Keicho repeated as he finally decided how he wanted this to go. He was quick to reach over to his bedside drawer, pulling out some lotion he kept on hand. It probably wasn’t the best for preparation, but Keicho figured it would be better than nothing. “You want me right? Or is that just the stand talking?” He questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he warmed up some of the lotion in his fingers before finally making his approach.
“N-No,” Hazamada admitted, although Keicho doubted his honesty, “W-Wanted you… Since… Wanted you…” He mumbled, clearly struggling to string a coherent thought together. “Wanted you since you did this~” He finally managed with a giggle as a hand came to rub his scar, the one Keicho had been so intrigued with.
Once Hazamada admitted that, Keicho was finally able to understand the twin scars Hazamada had on his body. When Keicho had shot Hazamada, he had hit him right through his chest, impaling him completely. Sure the bleeding had stopped once Hazamada’s stand had manifested, but he must’ve still retained the fleshwounds that the arrow caused.
“I… I kept picking at it…” Hazamada revealed, giggling as he kept his eyes trained on Keicho’s cock, “Didn’t want it… didn’t want it to heal,” He added, his breath uneven as he wriggled on top of Keicho’s blanket. “Wanted you… Want you… Keicho,” He continued. And that was enough for Keicho to push forward.
Sure Hazamada was obviously spilling all his secrets due to the stand’s influence, but Keicho had to believe that these were his true feelings. The scar that was present on his chest was evidence enough. Hazamada had gone out of his way to ensure the wound would leave a scar like that, he had picked at it, risked infection, did all of that just to ensure Keicho left a lasting mark behind. Of course he would argue that the stand he had been given was a lasting mark enough, but he was quick to discard his thoughts. Why deny Hazamada any longer?
When one of his fingers pressed against Hazamada’s asshole, he could see what could almost be an electric spark shoot through the man. It made him smirk a little, and a part of him wondered if this was what Hazamada was like when he wasn’t under a stand’s spell. Slowly, one finger pressed past that tight ring of muscle, and he watched as one of Hazamada’s hands shot for the sheets while the other remained pressed to his scar. It was such a strangely erotic sight for Keicho, that he couldn’t stop himself.
Quickly one finger became two, and Hazamada was more than receptive to the intrusion. Keicho kept a close eye on Hazamada’s face, almost as if he was waiting for the moment that the stand’s effects would wear off. Waiting for Hazamada to become himself again. Waiting for Hazamada to scream out and fight back. But it didn’t come. Instead, he looked up at Keicho with pure adoration in his eyes, his mouth open and letting out soft moans each time Keicho twisted his fingers.
When Keicho managed to rub against Hazamada’s prostate, the smaller man let out a desperate wheeze of a moan. He squirmed beneath Keicho, trying his best to chase after Keicho’s fingers every time they dared to withdraw. It was a side Keicho had never really seen from the other. Funnily enough, the only time Keicho thought he came close was when he had actually shot Hazamada with the arrow. The look of shock on his face, the mixed expression that Keicho originally couldn’t make out when he had revealed himself to be the one who had shot Hazamada.
He remembered how Hazamada reacted, picking apart the entire event in his head. The short man had wandered right into the dark living room of the Nijimura house, calling out to Keicho, asking why he hadn’t been showing up to school. The short man heard a floorboard creak, and he turned, looking about ready to run out the front door. And then Keicho shot him from deeper within the house. Right through the chest. Hazamada had gasped and sputtered, just like he had been doing underneath Keicho. He fell to his knees as he coughed up blood. And then Keicho had revealed himself. Hazamada had met Keicho’s eyes, his own blown wide. His mouth agape. At first Keicho thought it to be a look of shock, hatred, and anguish. Now he knew it to be a much more lustful gaze.
“You’re doing well,” Keicho mused as he continued to pump his fingers into the short man, smiling at him as Hazamada continued to take it. He was so wiggly, but Keicho attributed that to the heat within him. He was incredibly hot and tight, which made Keicho think that this stand was something that could be very, very dangerous if its user was guided by the wrong influence.
“M-More… Keicho,” Hazamada whined out, tossing his head back when his request was met by his prostate being stimulated once again. While Hazamada had not stopped weeping, he had stopped with the insistence that he was going to die, which Keicho assumed was a good thing. He was still acting out in desperation, but it wasn’t so bad, at least not to Keicho.
A part of Keicho longed to delve into pure cruelty, whether it be by stringing this along as far as he possibly could, or by just giving the shorter man what he wanted before he was really ready. Either option would no doubt have Hazamada a crying mess beneath him, so the real question was how badly did Keicho want to ruin whatever semblance of friendship they had. If he kept toying with Hazamada, he ran the risk of the stand’s effects wearing off, with Hazamada coming to his senses with Keicho on top of him. If he gave in at that very moment, and went at it while more prep should have been done, he could seriously hurt Hazamada, and leave him in pain long after they were done.
“Just a bit longer Toshi,” Keicho assured as he pressed a third finger past the other’s threshold, smirking at the wild moan that came from Hazamada’s lips. He assumed that, no matter the outcome of their time together, their friendship would be warped permanently, in a way not even Josuke’s Crazy Diamond could fix. “I don’t want to hurt you too badly now,” he added, which pulled an almost manic series of giggles from Hazamada’s throat.
“Wouldn’t… Wouldn’t mind,” Hazamada managed to sputter in reply. God he was so demented in a way that Keicho was finding himself quickly addicted to. The way Hazamada was pliant beneath him, taking three thick fingers and still begging and sobbing out for more. It was starting to push Keicho over an edge he hadn’t even noticed had been reached. His own cock leaked in response to Hazamada’s endless lust, and a part of him made the mental note to pay Shinobi a visit after this was all said and done.
It grew harder and harder to hold himself back, especially with how Hazamada’s body twitched and spasmed in response to being stretched open. A part of Keicho was honestly surprised he had managed to keep his composure this long, chalking it up to his own obsession with military strategy and discipline. Unfortunately, military discipline didn’t really prepare him for the sight laid out before him, and Keicho finally allowed himself to lapse to his own desires.
Hazamada let out a whiny cry when Keicho withdrew his fingers, and the blonde was treated to the view of his winking hole, which finalized what the pair seemed to know was coming for quite some time. Keicho’s dick finally garnered some well needed attention, with the man using whatever lotion was left to slick himself up, watching as Hazamada’s eyes were trained on each small move from the taller man.
“You sure you still need me?” Keicho mused, watching as all Hazamada could do was nod in frenzied desire. From the look on Hazamada’s face, he needed this more than he needed oxygen, and Keicho was more than happy to deliver.
Toshikazu’s mind was completely blank, all he could focus on was the cock before him. Keicho was huge, at least that was what Hazamada could gleam through his altered mental state. Maybe in reality he was just proportional, but from Hazamada’s view, Keicho was massive, and he wanted the blonde to split him in two. He giggled like a mad man as he felt the very tip of Keicho’s dick press against his needy hole, the slight hint of pressure would have driven him nearly to the brink of madness if he wasn’t already there.
In a split moment, there was a sliver of clarity in Hazamada’s mind. His thoughts raced a mile a minute. Was this actually happening? Was he actually letting this happen to him? Why wasn’t he fighting harder against Shinobi’s rotten stand? Why was he enjoying what Keicho had been doing to him? And then Keicho pushed forward, and his mind was sent right back to a scrambled mess. He arched his back off the bed in response, howling out in pleasure as he felt the other man press further inside him.
All Keicho could feel was heat, and for a second, he was worried he would actually burn himself inside the other man. Every single move he made seemed to pull a cry from Hazamada’s lips, and it was honestly reasonable. Keicho towered over him when it came to their height difference, and his dick was huge compared to Hazmada’s thin frame. He wasn’t even fully seated inside the other and he felt like Hazamada was probably at his limit at how much he could take. A part of Keicho felt terrible, that he was debasing the one person in Morioh, outside of his brother, who went out of their way to spend time with him in such a way, but the other, louder side of him continued to press forward, further impaling Hazamada on his cock.
Keicho couldn’t stop himself once he started, the second he pressed past Hazamada’s hole, he couldn’t hold back. Within seconds he was fully sheathed within the other, groaning out at how tight Hazamada was around him. Fuck if Hazamada had given him any idea that he had been interested earlier, he would have had him this way several times over. His body was so small, and so erotic, almost to the point where it made Keicho feel dirty for enjoying it this much.
“I’m going to rip you in two,” Keicho mused, bringing his hand down to Hazamada’s gut, feeling the very obvious impression his dick left within the man. His stomach was flat, and it made the bulge that Keicho’s dick caused that much more apparent.
“Please,” Hazamada wheezed as his hands grabbed Keicho’s forearm, nails digging into his skin out of desperation, “Break me~” he begged, looking up at Keicho with the most pathetically erotic expression. Good god Keicho prayed that Hazamada wasn’t going to hate him after this, because he was going to want to fuck the shorter man like this again and again.
Once Hazamada had begged him for his own destruction, Keicho found it impossible to stall any longer. It started with the slight roll of his hips against Hazamada, which pulled a noisy whine from Hazamada’s lips, all while he continued to feel his own cock rocking the shorter man’s insides.
“God you… You shouldn’t be this fucking sexy,” Keicho muttered, watching as Hazamada’s mouth hung wide open, moaning and crying out for Keicho to continue to fuck him. Once rocking felt to be not enough, the taller man finally moved on to full blown thrusts, fucking into Hazamada with an almost reckless abandon.
“You’re gonna… you’re gonna rip me in half,” Hazamada groaned, his face twisted into masochistic glee as he continued to grip onto Keicho’s wrist. “Fuck… Need you,” he added with a giggle that melted into a desperate scream once Keicho’s cock managed to ram against his prostate.
Keicho continued to fuck Hazamada, nearly losing control of himself as he moved. It seemed as if every thrust of his hips pulled some of the heat from Toshikazu’s body and deposited into his own. Of course he wasn’t in such a state of distress as Hazamada was, but he was getting a taste of it. As he recognized the feeling that was taking residence in his mind, he had the wherewithal to recognize that Hazamada’s whines and begs were making the heat pooling within him more intense.
“You’re so fucking noisy,” Keicho muttered as he took his free hand to Hazamada’s mouth, his fingers forcing their way past his lips and pressing down on his tongue. He couldn’t help but laugh at Hazamada’s face, his mouth stuffed with four of Keicho’s fingers while his thumb locked under the smaller man’s chin. “That’s a good bitch,”
He wasn’t even sure why he said that, it must’ve been Shinobi’s stand… He was growing increasingly warm, and his attention was growing more focused on the man beneath him. God it felt so strange, and the worst part of it was that Keicho couldn’t even be bothered to shift to take notes on the experience. Both his hands were occupied as he fucked Hazamada into his mattress and his notebook felt so far away. This was much easier, especially with how open and receptive Hazamada was. He was currently beneath Keicho, struggling to smile and giggle around his fingers. All he could manage was drooling all over them, which eventually just turned into Hazamada doing his best to suck on the thick digits.
Hazamada wasn’t even fully aware of what was happening anymore, he was still hot, but the feeling of being impaled on a cock, alongside the pressure that came from having four large fingers practically ripping his jaw off made him feel amazing. Keicho’s words penetrated the thick fog of his mind and he writhed with pleasure in response. He was a good bitch- and accepting that fact seemed to satisfy a deep hunger that possessed him.
Within the push and pull of sex, Hazamada felt like he was losing sense of himself, he was less his own person and more a piece in a well-oiled machine. His brain was fuzzy and warm, his limbs felt weightless, and he could barely keep his eyes open long enough to even attempt to look at the bare walls of Keicho’s room. The air in his lungs felt heavy and fluid, as if he was being held underwater, taking in water like a fish. It felt good to be reduced to such a state of non-personhood, to exist solely to give and receive pleasure, there was a comfort there.
Keicho watched as the man beneath him almost fell limp against his bed, but the blonde could not stop himself. Just as a heat had taken over Hazamada’s body and left him in his mindless state, the same heat had now infected Keicho’s body, and his reaction was quite the opposite. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man beneath him, he was splayed out on his bed, pale skin standing out against military grey sheets. Keicho was fucking him, and he couldn’t stop himself.
There was no way to signify how many times the pair came during their coupling. Just as Hazamada had melted away, Keicho was soon to join him. The hours blended together with every orgasm only furthering their descent into brainless, sex-drunk madness. Keicho was sure he had come inside the smaller man enough to knock him up, and Hazamada was lost to his own pleasure, with his dick shooting blanks pathetically across his stomach.
There had to be a stopping point somewhere along the line, given that one moment, the pair were mindlessly fucking like animals in heat, and the next they were seemingly both conscious. They came to hours later, still linked in a way that seemed almost horrific when they realized what had happened to them both.
“Fuck! Get- Keicho!” Hazamada squawked as he fully recognized the horror of his situation. Come had dried and crusted across his stomach and chest, and Keicho was still buried within him. He was ridiculously sore, almost to the point where he couldn’t feel anything below his hips, and just as he tried to free himself of the blonde, he moved in just the wrong way, which forced a moan out of his mouth.
“Toshikazu… I- Jesus Christ,” Keicho hissed as he blinked himself fully conscious, looking down at the mess that had been made. “I am…” He trailed off, trying to regain his composure as he finally pulled out, wincing at the amount of spend that came from a very abused hole.
“Don’t fucking watch it!” Hazamada snapped as he tried his best to shrink away, staring up at Keicho with wide eyes. He did his best to cover himself, in an attempt at decency, but it failed almost immediately. “I… Shinobi… I talked to her and then she… she did this! This is her fault!” he snapped, jerking up before letting out a whiny groan of pain.
“Yeah, that much is obvious… You said her stand was Love Trilogy,” Keicho muttered, managing to turn himself around to give Hazamada the obvious space he needed. “You came here in the middle of the day burning up, one thing led to another… I should’ve been more in control of myself,” Keicho’s admission made Hazamada scoff as he shuffled around on the bed, making a grossed out noise as he no doubt felt more of Keicho’s come leak down his thighs.
“No fucking shit,” He muttered as he finally managed to come to his feet, hissing as his legs attempted to betray him. “God now I know what the daft bitch was talking about… This does fucking hurt,” he whined, finally giving Keicho the approval that he could in fact turn around.
What he saw nearly left him speechless, Hazmada was wearing one of his shirts, not one he had worn recently, but one that had been strewn about his room. An American band t-shirt that his father had bought years before he had become a gloopy shell of his former self. The fabric hung loosely off of Hazamada, clearly swallowing him up as he was both too short and too lithe to properly wear any of Keicho’s clothes.
“The fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Hazamada snapped, glaring up at Keicho as he struggled to keep himself up on his feet. “You really think I’m trying to step into a pair of fuckin’ pants right now? I can barely stand, no thanks to you!” He added before wincing at a pain in his lower back. “Go get me a washcloth or something you bastard,” he added, which activated something in Keicho that he hadn’t recognized was there.
In an instant the blonde had snatched his own sweats off the floor and made his way out of his bedroom. Why he was taking orders from Hazamada of all people was partially lost on him. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he nearly shattered the other’s spine the night before… yeah that sounded about right. There was an internal conflict building up inside him, one that was far too intense for him to actually process in a way that would be proper.
Images of Hazamada underneath him, moaning, writhing, begging… It sent another heat to Keicho’s face. He shouldn’t have been thinking about Hazamada in that way, especially after the fact that a stand had been the only reason the shorter man had been all over him. Well… Keicho’s mind was brought back to the scar he had discovered on Hazamada’s chest and back. Maybe it wasn’t all the stand’s doing… Right?