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It’s Really Not Weird If Everybody Does It

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“I brought you a present,” Josuke says. Smiling that devilish little smile of his that he only wears when he’s got mischief in mind.

His smile like that has gotten them into and out of a lot of shit, and they usually come out on top. They’re the unbeatable team of Josuke and Okuyasu after all.

So Okuyasu’s down for whatever it is his brilliant, clever friend has in mind.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and tips his head. Waiting for Josuke to explain, because Josuke will surely explain it. He never ever makes Okuyasu feel like an idiot, but he certainly picks up the mental slack between the two of them. Bridges the gaps in understanding.

Okuyasu doesn’t really get what someone as cool and suave as Josuke sees in some dumb punk like him, but Josuke seems to like him well enough. They hang out all the time. They have what Josuke’s mom calls an ‘unbreakable bond’ and Okuyasu kinda likes that. Unbreakable like Crazy Diamond, unbeatable like their teamwork.

And if someone were to ask Okuyasu to define how he feels about Josuke well...he doesn’t have words that are fancy and nice like ‘unbreakable’ but he would probably say bright. He would probably say fizzy, like a carbonated drink that’s been downed too fast, the bubbly, sweet sensation tickling at the top of his throat like the threat of hiccups.

He doesn’t really feel that way about anyone else but that isn’t a crush. That doesn’t make it a crush. They’re just best friends.

A best friend is supposed to be someone who makes the world seem better just by smiling.

Okuyasu is stupid, but he knows that much at least.

“So what did you get me,” he asks, finally. Getting just a little bit antsy looking down at Josuke who is sitting on his Okuyasu’s bed as comfortably as if it were his own.

“I guess it’s really more like got us,” Josuke corrects. He leans across the mattress to root through his bag. The muscles in his arms bulge and stretch. Okuyasu appreciates the sight. He knows how hard Josuke’s been working to look as ripped and tough as Jotaro does.

He should say something about it. Confirm that he’s noticed. It would make Josuke feel good, probably. Hearing compliments on his own body always makes Okuyasu feel good. He’s still trying to put the words together when Josuke straightens, tosses whatever it is he brought along up to Okuyasu.

Whatever it is turns out to be a VHS tape.

Whatever it is turns out to be an American Porno VHS tape.

Okuyasu swallows, staring down at the neon bright cover of it. The woman on the front, all pouting lips and short bobbed hair. Red-lacquered fingernails. Red, red lips open in an indecent ‘oh’. Okuyasu blinks, realizes after a second that Josuke is talking, explaining himself probably. Explaining where he got something like this.

“Huh?” Okuyasu manages to grunt past the mush that has become of his brain.

“Huh what?” Josuke answers back. Grinning from the side of his mouth. Teeth all caught up on his lip. “It would feel super weird watching it at home. Or with Jotaro around. But I didn’t want to watch it alone either so I just thought—well I mean you like this kinda stuff too, right?”

Okuyasu stares at the title. The popping English letters. He recognizes “Surprise” though he can’t remember what it means. He runs his thumb over the curl of the S and he doesn’t ask. It feels safer than touching anywhere else on the box. The woman’s huge tits and the sculpted abs of the two dude’s her hands are braced on take up a majority of the space.

Okuyasu knows he shouldn’t feel shy about it—it’s fuckin’ stupid, they’re just pictures—but he does anyway.

Maybe Josuke picks up on that. He’s always been unfairly perceptive.

“We don’t gotta watch it,” he says, “if you don’t wanna.”

Okuyasu looks up, looks at him. Josuke’s cheeks are red, arms crossed over his chest, socked feet crossed at the ankles.

“You didn’t wanna watch it alone though,” Okuyasu says.

“I’ve got other friends, dude. I just thought you’d...” Josuke looks away, down at his lap, where his hands are curled in on one another. “She’s hot, right? I thought you’d appreciate it is all,” he says.

Okuyasu licks his lips. They’re so dry. That weird shivery feeling he sometimes gets around Josuke is happening again. Like from his knees down he’s gone all liquid and weak while top half of him is just...barren, parched. Constricting little pangs in his chest, behind his ribs.

“She’s way hot, bro,” he says. “I just...I never really considered watching porn with you before.”

But it isn’t a big deal, obviously. Obviously. Josuke wouldn’t be asking him if it were. Friends all over the world probably do this shit. It makes sense.

Obviously.

Josuke goes a brighter shade of pink at the words though. Blush across his cheekbones, scattering down his throat and across his exposed shoulders. “Yeah, man, well I didn’t exactly—you don’t have to say it like that.” He smiles, rolls his head, palms the back of his neck. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I probably will like it.”

“So you wanna watch it with me?”

Okuyasu takes a breath that never feels like it reaches his lungs. It burns out somewhere in his throat. Evaporates into nothing. He nods, hands the VHS back over. “Sure, bro,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

Josuke nods, clambers off of the bed, popping open the box as he goes. He tosses it to the side rather carelessly. It lands face down, slides a little on the hardwood of Okuyasu’s bedroom floor. There’s more writing on the back and another picture of the woman and her majorly large titties. She’s cupping them so that the nipple is covered by her fingers, but the impression of it is still there. Large pink areolas.

Okuyasu swallows. Shifts his gaze back to Josuke’s back. The loose fall of Josuke’s tank top from his shoulder blades.

They haven’t even started and Okuyasu is already getting hard.

This is such a problem.

Josuke crosses back over after pushing the tape into the VCR. The tracking hums a bit as the video cuts on. He settles on the floor next to the bed, back against the mattress. Okuyasu considers climbing over him, then doesn’t, he sits on the floor beside him instead.

It makes it less weird, maybe, if neither of them are in bed. It’s more casual like that. Casual, that’s a good word. Okuyasu is proud of himself for thinking of it.

The images jump cut at the very start of the video. She’s already on her knees with her top pulled off. Those breasts of hers free as she runs her fingers around the nipple. Her areolas are darker in the video than in the picture, more brown than pink. Okuyasu tears his eyes away from them then sorta remembers that he’s supposed to be watching it.

It’s there to be watched.

“Shit,” Josuke says. “Guess it wasn’t all the way rewound. Want me to—,”

Okuyasu shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “She’s...she’s super hot.”

And she is. She really, really is. But his attention keeps darting away from her and the video and the cheesy music, keeps getting drawn to Josuke’s quiet breathing, and the sweep of Josuke’s lashes and the really pensive way he’s messaging his own stomach, fingering up under his tank top to stroke his own abs.

Okuyasu wonders at how warm his skin must be, the flexing length of his belly. Josuke’s elbow brushes Okuyasu’s arm on every upstroke, but he’s so absorbed in his own thing, in the porno and his own teasing touches, that he doesn’t seem to notice.

There’s the sound of knocking from the video and the woman on film answers the door to the equally shirtless men from the cover. There’s a slew of English dialogue that Okuyasu only really half-understands, and then the trio quite happily dissolves into moans and grunts as the woman falls to her knees, pressing kisses down the line of the first, larger man’s cock through his pants.

Okuyasu licks his lips, is aware he’s doing it only halfway through the motion. Kind of running on autopilot. He glances sidelong at Josuke just in time to catch his friend glancing away from him.

So they’re both looking.

Maybe that makes it okay.

Boldly, taking Josuke’s gaze as a cue, Okuyasu palms himself through his sweats. Pressing down against the firm line of his flesh. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Josuke do the same, and he has to bite his lip to keep from sighing.

He likes when he does the right things, the feeling of accomplishment always coils so tightly in his gut. A rarity that he’s learned to value highly.

On the screen one of the men lets out a low, plaintive moan, and next to him—quieter, gentler—Josuke echoes the sound and it’s like Okuyasu’s brain shuts down. Like he can’t process oxygen any longer. The surge of arousal hits him behind the eyes, has him seeing spots. His head falls back against the mattress and he stares up at the ceiling until he feels at least somewhat collected again.

He doesn’t really watch a lot of porn. Nudie mags were always easier to find, for Keicho to steal from the store while Okuyasu had the clerk distracted. He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands without the magazine to hold, the pages to turn.

He fists the hand not rubbing his crotch on his thigh, curls the fingers and watches the material wrinkle in his grip.

The dudes in the video are holding each other’s shoulders while the woman alternates sucking their cocks. Their pubes and her lips are shiny with sweat and come. Both of the guys’ mouths are open, panting into one another like it feels really good.

“Why don’t those dudes kiss,” Okuyasu wonders aloud.

Josuke snorts, Okuyasu can feel his sidelong gaze. “What are you talking about?”

Okuyasu grunts, stops rubbing against his palm while tries to put together his thoughts. “I dunno,” he says. “Just. I mean her mouth is kinda busy but that other dude’s isn’t, right? And when you’re—I mean I just—when it’s like this, it just feels right to wanna kiss something.”

“You saying you want to be kissed right now, Okuyasu?” Josuke asks in that teasing, low kinda way he gets sometimes. His voice catching over his own arousal, still grinding against the heel of his hand.

Okuyasu bites his lip. His hands are sweating. They don’t kiss in the magazines usually, but the magazines aren’t moving, and every time he jerks off there’s always been this dragging, buzzing sort of desire to have his mouth pressed against something. A titty or a neck or someone else’s mouth. Doesn’t really matter. Okuyasu’s never had to think this hard about it.

He wouldn’t have assumed anyone else did either. He finally settles on shrugging. Tipping his head. “Don’t you, man?”

And that causes Josuke to pause. Hips stilling, eyes going wide. It’s probably gay or something to watch him so closely, observing every little detail and taking it to heart, but Okuyasu is having a harder and harder time seeing why that’s such an issue.

“Yeah,” Josuke says finally. His tongue running across his own plump lips. Pink like a girl’s, pretty like a girl’s. Okuyasu wonders why it’s only now he’s noticing that.

He’s always known Josuke was attractive but there’s something almost feminine to it, his lashes and his lips and the curve of his nose. He’s prettier than the lady in the movie even and she makes a living being pretty and get fucked on camera.

Okuyasu blinks. “You wanna be kissed too?”

“I already said yeah,” Josuke bites. “Okay?”

And there’s only the two of them here so—

Josuke’s skin is soft under his palm. Josuke stiffens when Okuyasu runs his hand over his jaw, his mouth opens like he’s going to protest. His gaze meets Okuyasu’s and his mouth closes again without saying anything.

Okuyasu leans across the distance. The scant space left between them. He hadn’t realized how close they had drifted, shoulders almost brushing, knees bumping. It makes it easier, now, going in for the kiss.

Okuyasu wonders if maybe, somehow, Josuke had planned this.

It doesn’t matter though. Really. Because half a second after wondering how deliberate this whole thing had been, Okuyasu’s lips meet Josuke’s. The motion is a little hesitant. He’s never really kissed anyone before. His mom maybe, way back when. His brother maybe when they were even younger. Nothing recent for sure. Nobody.

Josuke draws a breath in through his nose, quick, shivering. Okuyasu can hear it, feel the way his chest expands. He lets it out in a shaky exhale against Okuyasu’s mouth. And then their lips meet again.

Fumbling, awkward, close-mouthed little touches. Okuyasu has a feeling their doing something wrong, missing some piece of the puzzle, but Josuke isn’t pushing him away or stopping them so maybe he’s just overthinking.

He’s not good at thinking, at problem solving, at any of that shit. Makes sense he wouldn’t be good at it here either.

“Oh fuck,” the lady on the television whines in English. “Ah ah oh god put it in me, baby.”

Put it

Put it in.

Okuyasu changes his grip on Josuke’s jaw, cradling the bone to angle them together better. His fingers are trembling a little bit, shaking in their hold, but he doesn’t think about it too hard and it doesn’t matter.

He pushes his tongue into Josuke’s mouth and Josuke fucking lets him. Opens up for him. Presses his own tongue, sloppy and wet against Okuyasu’s, rubs them together. Something animal and base clicks home in Okuyasu’s head, and before he can consider the consequences of his actions, he’s dropping his hands to Josuke’s waist and pulling him bodily across his lap.

“Can’t see the tv like this,” Josuke says lightly. Back to the screen. Okuyasu can’t either, his whole view blocked by Josuke, filled with him.

He doesn’t mind.

He isn’t complaining.

Those paint-bright, neon, bubbly feelings are pounding behind his eyes, across his lungs and his ribs and his stomach.

“Do you care,” he asks.

Josuke grins. “Not really,” he says. His hands trace idly along Okuyasu’s collar bones. The soundtrack of the woman getting railed on the video fills the space between them.

And though she is moaning and mewling with shocking intensity, Okuyasu discovers that he couldn’t care less about what is happening to her. Nothing on that screen that he can’t see matters even the littlest bit because what matters more than anything is the person sitting on his lap.

He pushes forward, hand pressed flat against Josuke’s lower back and squishing the two of them together while he plunders Josuke’s mouth again. Their teeth knock together; both of them too eager, clashing and bumbling and inexperienced.

When Josuke breaks away some moments later, a gasping inhale tripping over his tongue, Okuyasu puts his wits together enough to ask, “Did you plan this?”

“Would you be mad if I said I did?”

Okuyasu considers the question for all of about half a second before shaking his head. He isn’t deep enough to be worried about that sort of forethought, he isn’t the strategist between the two of them. He trusts Josuke to lead the two of them. He trusts Josuke.

That fact is undeniably simple.

Josuke’s thumb runs along the seam of his lips, pushing in at the corner, dragging back out wetly. “You really wouldn’t be,” he says. “But I didn’t. Not really. I thought that maybe—no I didn’t even think maybe. I just really wanted to see your face when you were turned on. I thought that would be enough for me.”

“Enough?”

“Yeah enough.”

“You gotta explain that. I’m not smart, you know. I don’t get this stuff if you don’t spell it out.”

Josuke frowns, pinches Okuyasu’s nose between his knuckles until Okuyasu squirms, pressing up against Josuke and whining lightly between his teeth. “Shut up with that shit, huh? ‘Not smart’,” Josuke echoes. “You’ve saved my ass over and over, man. You’re tough and you’re strong and you are smart and maybe I just kinda—maybe I really like all of that about you. And maybe I thought you could never like me the same way so...so I was gonna make do. Make it be enough, you know?”

“I do like you the same way though,” Okuyasu says. He tightens his hands in their grip, until Josuke’s hip bones bite into his palms.

Josuke grins again, from the corners of his lips, a smirk that draws upwards toward his pretty blue eyes. “Yeah, lucky for me.”

Lucky for the both of them. As unbeatable and unbreakable in this as in every other aspect of their lives. They’re never not gonna be a team, Okuyasu feels that in his gut.

He swallows. Presses himself up against Josuke again, more deliberate. Slower. He pulls Josuke down at the same time, grinding himself against Josuke’s ass.

“Is this okay?”

“So long as I can see your face, I’m good with anything you want, Okuyasu.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course I mean it.” Josuke hitches his weight, shifts it, backwards and forwards on his knees. Giving as good as he gets. Like he wants Okuyasu just as badly as Okuyasu wants him.

“Fuck me! Oh fuck me!” The woman on the video says. “God, fill me up with that big cock.”

And that is—well, it's quite enough of that.

Okuyasu makes eye contact with Josuke. One second they hold it, completely still. Two seconds.

They don’t make it three before they’re falling over each other with laughter. Josuke’s weight is warm where he collapses with his giggles against Okuyasu’s chest. His hair tickles Okuyasu’s chin, those perfectly teased strands working themselves out of his pompadour.

“I’m gonna turn it off,” Josuke starts to say. Sitting up, casting about for the remote.

Okuyasu cradles his own face in his hands. “Yeah,” he says. Josuke must spot the missing remote cuz his weight lifts from Okuyasu’s lap. Without it anchoring him, Okuyasu slides further down the floor, until only the tops of his shoulders and head are still braced against the mattress. He catches himself from slipping completely with his elbows.

“Comfortable down there,” Josuke asks. He’s kicking free of his trousers and shorts, boxer briefs decorated with little peace signs. He shifts from one foot to the other as he sheds them. As he tosses them away.

And he’s naked.

He’s standing there, in Okuyasu’s room and he’s naked. And hard. His cock is nice, pretty—is it weird to think it’s pretty? Is that strange? Does it cross a boundary? Okuyasu doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. Pretty is just about the only word he has for that shade of pink, the same rosy shade as Josuke’s nipples. No retouching here. No editing or anything.

Okuyasu shudders. The inhale he was trying to take dies somewhere behind his teeth. “Josuke,” he says instead. Fluttering and small and fragile sounding. He isn’t used to sounding like that, all broken up and soft.

“Yeah? It okay?”

“Yeah,” Okuyasu says. “I—that is, Josuke, you—you’re better than okay.”

Josuke grins. The muscles in his legs tremble slightly as he lowers himself down over Okuyasu’s lap again. The material of Okuyasu’s flimsy tank top goes translucent when Josuke’s cock drags against it. He’s already leaking so much.

“You’re really wet,” Okuyasu says. Lifting a hand to touch, waiting a beat, fingers wavering in the air before he actually makes contact. Waiting for permission.

Josuke blushes, frowning. He presses forward into Okuyasu’s grip, looking away. “You don’t have to say it,” he says.

“But I like it.” Okuyasu moves his fingers, curling them around the width, getting used to the feeling of Josuke’s weight in his palm. It’s different than his own. Feels so new and exciting and strange. He swipes his thumb against the head, and another gush of liquid spills out across the pad, trickles down toward Okuyasu’s wrist. “It means you’re feeling good, right?”

“Okuyasu…”

“I ain’t clever, man, I won’t know if you don’t tell me, Josuke.”

“It feels really good, Okuyasu,” Josuke says. He shuffles closer, braces his hands on the mattress behind Okuyasu’s head. Giving himself leverage to thrust.

“Can I...err that is, do you mind if I—,” Okuyasu huffs, unable to find the words he wants. Words that don’t sound like something out of the AV they just turned off. He cranes his neck forward to kiss that pink tip of Josuke’s cock, tongue darting out to tease at the slit. Easier to just do than to put into words.

“Shit,” Josuke grunts. “You don’t hafta—,”

“Want to,” Okuyasu shoots back. Low and deep and rumbling from his chest. Surprising to himself even how much he really, really wants to. But he waits, staring up at Josuke, for Josuke to make the call. Give him the okay for it.

A curt nod is all he gets. Another shiver, Josuke’s shoulders curling inward and then straightening. Okuyasu’s gaze drops to Josuke’s dick, feeding it between his lips. He’s careful of his teeth, curling his tongue around the length, breathing through his nose. It’s a lot to focus on, all the little details, but Josuke’s reaction makes it all the more worth it.

“Oku,” he says. His fingers tighten on the edge of the mattress, Okuyasu can see in his peripheral how the knuckles go white. Like every fiber in Josuke’s being is fighting to hold back, not to thrust and claim, but to let Okuyasu take things at his own pace.

And Okuyasu appreciates it, like a warm sorta lapping kinda heat. A flip-flop in his stomach, a knot lower in his gut. Josuke would never ever do anything to hurt him, Okuyasu knows. But Josuke can also heal any harm he ever could maybe cause so like the math, at least in this equation, adds up in Okuyasu’s head.

Which is saying a lot.

But it’s how he justifies reaching up and grabbing Josuke’s wrist, pulling until Josuke’s killer grip is resituated in his hair. Sinking into those longer strands at the top.

“Okuyasu,” Josuke says again. His eyes are slits, lashes clumping, sweat and tears moistening his red-tinged cheeks. “You sure about this, dude?”

Is he sure about this? Is that even a real question at this point?

Okuyasu huffs around the dick in his mouth, his eyes flutter shut, his hand leaves Josuke’s with a meaningful squeeze. Trust in the entire line of his being; he trusts the hell outta Josuke, in this and any situation they may ever find themselves in.

“Fuck, man,” Josuke mumbles, thrusting experimentally. His cock goes a little deeper than when Okuyasu had been craning his neck before. Pulls out. Then in a little deeper again.

Out and—

Okuyasu hums, presses himself upwards, forwards, closer. Able to focus on relaxing his throat around the intrusion better than he had been when moving had also been part of his task. Letting Josuke just fuck his mouth at lesiurly, steady pace. His elbows ache, digging into the hardwood floor, but Okuyasu can easily ignore the sensation.

He opens his eyes, glances up at Josuke’s face.

Their gazes meet and Josuke flinches. A dart of heat sears it’s way from Okuyasu’s chest down past his belly to his cock. When Josuke pushes in again, it’s a little rougher, a stutter in the rhythm he had been building. A wild little blip of desire. The hand not guiding Okuyasu’s head cradles his jaw instead, fingers teasing around the wide-stretched seal of his mouth.

“Is it weird if I tell you how hot you are like this,” Josuke says. His voice is weak, fluttering, buried under what must be a ton of emotions. Okuyasu doesn’t answer, can’t answer. He blinks at the question, his eyebrows quirk. “Ah shit,” Josuke groans. “God Okuyasu you look so—shit, man, so fucking good stretched around my cock.”

Okuyasu hums and Josuke’s fingers twitch, fisting in his hair, another rough, uncontrolled thrust. “Fuck,” he mutters, English, thick and pointed off of his tongue. “Okuyasu—I’m so close. I’m really—,”

His hands loosen, fingers on Okuyasu’s chin slipping through the drool that’s worked loose, made an absolute mess of him. Maybe he expects Okuyasu to pull away, to draw back, finish him off with his hand. The warning feels just like that, a warning, neon and flashing. And Okuyasu—

Well, Okuyasu just doesn’t give a shit. He hums again, from the top of his throat, trilling his tongue against the length of Josuke’s cock, and pushing as close as he can. It’s not well thought out—again, again, Okuyasu isn’t exactly the strategist—cuz it ends up with Josuke’s cock bumping clumsily against the back of his throat.

Josuke lets out a noise that can only be called a squeak. His body freezes, jerking, muscles snapping straight and stiff all at once. And it was a mistake and his warning was a good one because half a second later he’s coming right there, buried in Okuyasu’s throat, hot splashes. Okuyasu grunts, choking just a little bit, searing liquid sloshing back into his mouth, the salt sting of it making his eyes water, sinuses burning.

“Oku,” Josuke whines again. His chest is rising and falling, rapidly, dragging in breath after breath. “Bro. Dude. Okuyasu.” He pulls back. His hands petting through Okuyasu’s hair. Swiping some of the mess the dribbles back out from between his lips. Okuyasu swallows, weakly, throat aching from that recent abuse. He coughs into his fist.

“You okay,” Josuke asks.

Okuyasu can feel Crazy Diamond behind the words. Josuke’s innate desire to mend, to fix. Okuyasu shakes his head, presses his palms flat against the floor to sit himself up more. He rubs Josuke’s thigh. “‘M good.”

“You sound wrecked.”

“I’m still—,” Okuyasu swallows again. Flexes his stomach to rub up against Josuke’s ass again.

“Oh! Oh. Right.” Josuke grins. Color still high on his cheeks. He reaches behind himself, fingers shaking as they rip Okuyasu’s sweats down. They don’t make it very far, the elastic snaps to a stop just above Okuyasu’s knees.

Okuyasu’s about to ask for the plan when Josuke moves, settles his weight back so that Okuyasu’s cock is lined up with his crack. The question never even finishes forming in Okuyasu’s head, it’s shot down by the raw, good feeling of rutting up against Josuke’s willing body. Grinding against his ass, his sweaty lower back.

Not fucking, never getting deep enough for that, not even close, but it’s enough. Okuyasu’s too worked up for it to be anything but.

“Josuke,” he says, mouthing at Josuke’s collarbone. “I’m—,”

“Yeah, Okuyasu,” Josuke says. “Give it to me.” And he licks his lips and he just…he looks so fucking pretty that for a second Okuyasu wonders if this is even happening at all. If he hasn’t passed out or died or something.

But then again, he’s already done that dance once, hasn’t he? Faced the bright white lights and his brother waiting on the other side and this is-is so much infinitely better than that had been. That had been a sad dream, lonely and forlorn. This is something else entirely.

“I—,” Okuyasu stutters again. His lips against Josuke’s jaw now, teeth scraping the jut of bone. “Josuke, I lo—dude I love—,”

You.

He doesn’t say it. His brain short circuits over his orgasm. Over the feeling of Josuke’s lips catching on his own, Josuke’s tongue sweeping into his mouth. The soda in Okuyasu’s throat, shaken up and warm and fizzing, bubbles over. His stomach cramps with how hard he comes, unspooling, shivering in Josuke’s arms, and releasing rope after rope of come against Josuke’s spine.

He falls back against the mattress, boneless. Floating. He feels fuzzy all over, like a winter morning, packed into a heavy jacket and watching it snow. Warm weight across his chest. Tickling his chin.

His tips his head. Glances down at Josuke, who seems quite content to let him work his own way down from that intense orgasm. Ejacluate drips down from Josuke’s ass, warm and sticky where it pools on Okuyasu’s crotch.

“You good,” Okuyasu asks.

“Better than. You?”

Okuyasu shuts his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “something like that.”

“Wasn’t too much?”

“I’m still breathing,” Okuyasu says.

“Yeah,” Josuke plucks at the material of Okuyasu’s tank top. “I’m really...I’m really glad, dude.”

“That I’m still breathing?”

Josuke snorts. He pinches Okuyasu’s nose again. “I mean, yeah, that but...I’m just glad.”

Okuyasu grins ticks his chin back until Josuke’s grip falls away. Between the two of them, Josuke is not usually the one at a loss for words, Josuke is not usually the inarticulate one. It’s kind of cute, seeing him like this, kind of nice being able to indulge the thought of finding him cute. Okuyasu kisses his temple, once, more of a peck really, than anything serious.

“I’m glad too,” he says against Josuke’s skin. “I’m really, really glad.”