Johnny lay prostrate on the cushioned altar, stomach down, one leg hitched up for comfort. His arms were crossed under his head like a pillow, and his eyes remained closed, as was required of him as a sacrifice to one of the many tempestuous Gods.
For as much gauzy, translucent material was draped over his body during his cleansing ritual, it covered very little, and pooled over the altar and onto the floor more than it touched his skin. He felt like a plated meal, aesthetics requiring as much as anything else.
“Well, what a tempting sight placed right within my temple. I never know what to expect for the harvest gift each year, but...this may be one of my favorites to date.”
Johnny didn’t jump, nor make a noise of fright or surprise at the sudden voice echoing through the innermost chamber of the God’s temple. Instead, a slight sly smile crept onto his lips, unseen by his visitor.
“I am most honored to be to your liking,” he responded simply, eyes remaining closed.
“Oh, I’m sure. It is an honor to be sacrificed to the Gods, but it is a frightening ordeal to not know if you shall return, or if the underworld instead awaits.”
“Are you going to send me to see He who guards the the gates of the dead this night, O God of mine?”
A sharp, surprised laugh rang out in response, making Johnny smile.
“You are a bold one, aren't you? What is your name?”
“Before that, how do I know you truly are the God I am waiting for, and not a wayward priest here to ravage me instead? As I cannot open my eyes to inspect, I must be cautious.”
“You ask me to prove my own Godhood?” the God asked, tone incredulous.
“Yes,” Johnny answered.
Johnny felt a mouth press to the base of his neck, a sudden fire running through his veins at the contact. His back arched, fingers and toes curling as he gasped for air he found he suddenly needed—
The pleasure stopped as quickly as it started when the God drew back again, a low, dark chuckle in the air.
“Is that good enough for you, little human?” He asked, amused.
“Y...yes. Thank you.” Johnny caught his breath for a few moments before he asked his next question. “May I call you by name, as I shall give you mine?”
“Yes. I prefer Gyro to the name given to me, if it’s all the same.”
“Gyro,” Johnny tested in his mouth, smiling around it. “I’m Johnny.”
Gyro hummed, thoughtful. “I tasted several interesting things in you—including my own power. When did we meet in the past, Johnny?”
Johnny sighed, settling his face more comfortably in his own arms. “When I was little, I was in a carriage accident. I was thrown from the cart, and a horse trampled over me. When I woke, I could no longer feel nor move my legs, and for years the healers could do nothing. My brother came to your temple and prayed for help, which you granted.”
“Ah,” Gyro murmured, sliding his fingers down Johnny’s spine until he found the source of his now-healed injury. “Yes, right there.”
“My brother told me that the God of medicine and healing was merciful and just, and would listen to my plight. And he was correct. Ever since, I have been faithful to your temple in gratitude.”
“I see. I suppose having been in my presence before must be part of why you are so fearless. You know that along with the medicine and healing, I am also the God of judgement and vengeance?”
“Of course. But you will find nothing to sentence me for, Gyro, unless it is your whim.”
Gyro laughed softly. “Tell me of the other magic in your blood.” He settled on the altar next to Johnny, running a hand up and down his exposed skin.
“Do you want the summary or the whole story?” Johnny asked, shuddering at the sensation.
“Tell me the story. I like the sound of your voice.”
“Very well,” Johnny sighed. “It is said that one of my ancestors grew quite infatuated with He who is the sun incarnate. Knowing that He enjoyed riddles and clever word play, my ancestor invited Him to come down to the earth once a day to hear one. My ancestor persisted long enough that He who shines so brightly finally agreed. My ancestor was charismatic and cunning, and won the heart of the sun Himself, and was made immortal so that they could spend time eternal together.”
“Ah,” Gyro laughed, “so you’re a Joestar.” He pulled the iridescent material from Johnny’s left shoulder, and traced the star shape he found there. “Yes, that story is true. I should have recognized my uncle Caesar’s touch in you, but I suppose that was many generations back.”
Johnny hummed his response. “It is said their love was so strong that it created a child, despite neither being a woman.”
“The Gods have many powers, the least of which can create a human,” Gyro replied vaguely. “You do have the blood of the Gods within you, however diluted by time.”
“Is it also true that my ancestor’s grandson went to the underworld itself and defeated He who dwells there to reclaim the soul of his lover, who had been taken before it was his time to die?”
“Yes, but don’t mention that outside of this room. You will gain unwanted attention from a God who has no love for the Joestars. Perhaps I can spin that tale for you later; it was quite the spectacle at the time.” Gyro paused, thoughtful. “I believe I asked for an entire story, little Joestar. You gave me a watered down abstract. This displeases me.”
“My sincerest apologies, Gyro,” Johnny snickered, not sincere at all. “I would have thought you knew this story already. Why ask me to recount the details?”
“You are far too forward for a human in the presence of a God,” Gyro grumbled, though his hand never stopped its roaming. “In fact I do not know the details, as my uncle is rather tight-lipped about most of his personal life, and he is influential enough to keep the others that were involved quiet as well.”
“I see,” Johnny hummed, thoughtful. “I can tell the entire story as it has been passed down from my ancestors to me if that is how you wish to spend this night with your sacrifice, my God,” he chuckled.
“It is,” Gyro answered, stubbornly. “And as you are my sacrifice, you must do as I say. Tell me the entire story as it has been told from generation to generation, with nothing left out.”
“As you wish, Gyro. Before we start, may I make a confession?”
Gyro sighed. “I think I will hear it anyway, facetious as you are.”
Johnny laughed, raising to his hands and knees. “This position is quite uncomfortable to hold for a long time, especially if I’m to be telling a very long story.”
Gyro swallowed, his eyes raking over the bare skin moving as Johnny stretched.
“May I make another confession?” Johnny asked, the smile evident in his voice.
“Yes, what is it?” Gyro huffed, looking away to keep from being tempted further.
“When I was younger, I was told to keep my eyes closed when I was brought to this very temple to receive your blessing. It is a sign of respect to the Gods to not look upon their visage, I was told. I was young, and curious—I disobeyed the priests and my brother, and I opened my eyes to see the form of my most merciful God.”
“Ah, I see. Children will be what they are, I suppose. I am not offended,” Gyro disregarded with a flick of his wrist, unseen to Johnny.
“I told you so that you are aware I have seen your face, and the rest as well,” he snickered. “May I have permission to open my eyes, dear God of mine? I would very much like to look at you while I talk.”
“...Ah,” Gyro said, glancing back to see Johnny sitting up, faced away. The line of his back was beautiful, and the way the chiffon fell away from his skin to fall onto the table was mesmerizing. Gyro swallowed again, then took a breath to compose himself. “Very well. You may look upon my majesty if that is your wish.”
Johnny turned, looking at him with striking teal eyes. He crawled forward, and unceremoniously clambered into his lap, arms hooking around Gyro’s neck.
“No shame,” Gyro sighed, but did not object.
“This is more comfortable,” Johnny explained innocently. “And more warm, besides. The air is cold and I am naked.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Gyro muttered. “Begin the story before I decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“As you command, my God.”