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WINTER1990
NEW YORK CITY
Noriaki Kakyoin never particularly liked the color blue. But he did always enjoy mood lighting, and at home, often looked for ways to circumvent traditional fluorescent. His roommate insisted on helping him put in a big neon light by his bedroom window, to provide a little color.
He didn’t have the heart to tell him he’s a red kind of guy.
So he sits on his bed, with his back against the headboard, nose wedged into his new favorite manga. It’s the first tankōbon of the Battle Angel series, and after pages and pages, he’s finally reached the climax of action. Gally is just about to--
“Can you, like, give me a hand?” comes a voice. Jumping a little bit, he turns his head toward the sound. A tall, muscular man with silver hair, half-heart earrings and a too-tight shirt is sitting on the floor and staring up at him with frustration. It makes him frown. He doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s reading. Not only that, but he doesn’t like big voices, and the one speaking to him is oversized, nasally and-- French.
Everything about Jean Pierre Polnareff takes up a whole room: his voice, his body.
His attitude.
Kakyoin shifts on the bed and looks back down at his page, trying to remember the thought he’d been shaken out of. “You said you’ve got it.”
He knows that it’s rarely, if ever, a good idea to get on Polnareff’s nerves. But no one is quite as good at it or has as much fun doing it as he does.
“I’ve been doing this for half an hour, and you are just sitting there reading comics-”
“I don’t know if you remember, but I asked you if you wanted me to install it, and you insisted on doing it yourself. So I’m ‘butting out’ exactly like you told me to.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than I thought it would be! Now shut up and help me.”
“Ask nicely."
Polnareff’s upper lip curls. “Shut up and help me, bitch .”
Kakyoin laughs and returns to his manga. “No. Bitch. ”
“Hey, how do you say ‘bitch’ in Japanese?”
“Bitch.”
Polnareff huffs, yanks a small silver chain, and then suddenly, the scene explodes in a shower of intense light. “Fuck!-” he groans, pulling the chain again and sitting back on his knees. “Well, it works. Wanna do something else?”
“I’m reading.”
"You wanna get drunk?”
“So I can listen to you try to explain the plot of Bad News Bears again? Pass.”
“Bro come on,” he whines, scooting across the floor and resting his head on the edge of his friend’s bed. “There has to be something you wanna do.”
“I’m doing it right now.”
“Can you at least look at me when you talk to me?” he suddenly snaps, and yanks the book out of Kakyoin’s hands.
“Hey!--”
“You know, ever since we moved in together you’ve been really distant to me, and I don’t like it. What’s going on with you? Did I do something wrong?”
“I--” Now that Kakyoin thinks about it, he has been a little distant around Polnareff. Ever since they started living together, and he’s started to see what the older man was like when he wasn’t constantly stressed and fighting for his life, he’s started to....feel things.
Weird things.
Things he should only really be feeling for a woman, or so his parents tell him.
But he just can’t help the way he feels. And he’s trying not to blame himself for it, either: after all, Polnareff is handsome, strong , willing to work hard to make his friends happy, and has even been known to tell a good joke from time to time...Kakyoin can’t deny that he’s one hell of a man.
Maybe being distant is his way of trying to convince himself that those feelings will inevitably hurt him, or that somehow he can shake them off like a bad hangover. But right now, with that big sexy French bastard sitting there and pouting up at him, all he feels is guilt.
He sighs. “I’m sorry, bro. You’re right. What do you wanna do?”
His friend’s expression brightens a little. “I dunno. Whatever you want, really. I just--I know I’m gonna be bored for the rest of the night.”
“You wanna play video games?”
“Erm, not really. You remember what happened the last time we played video games.”
Kakyoin glances at the hole in the wall from where Polnareff hurled the Atari joystick at it with all his strength, then settles back against the headboard.
“How about a massage? Put those hands to good use.”
Polnareff laughs. “Oh yeah,” he says sarcastically, “of course! You must be exhausted after working so hard on putting that light together, after all.”
Now they’re both laughing. Kakyoin leans forward, his chuckles sneaking out from either side of his playful smirk. “Exhausted. Now come up here and rub my shoulders while I continue reading the scene you distracted me from-”
“Man, fuck you.”
“Fuck me? Are you sure? I dunno, Polnareff, I don’t think you could.”
“ Wow .” The Frenchman rolls his eyes and stands up, stretching his arms. His shirt rides up just enough for Kakyoin to see his beautifully toned stomach. It makes his breath catch, and he forces it back into his chest. “I dunno, I think I’m pretty good at fucking.”
“Says who?”
“Says the last artsy twink who rode my dick to kingdom come.”
Kakyoin thinks his heart will explode. “And who had the displeasure?”
“Oh, you don’t know him. His name is Nakyoin Koriaki.”
“Noriaki is my first name, dumbass.”
“Gosh, bro,” Polnareff says with high-pitched feigned innocence, “it sure is getting hot in here. Think I’m gonna take off my shirt...”
“Eaugh, why do you think I’m like, obsessed with seeing you strip all of a sudden? I wanted to read.”
“I don’t know. Why are you staring at me like that?”
Kakyoin turns as red as his hair and looks away. “I’m not staring at you like anything. And I’m not a twink.”
“Ha!” Polnareff grins at him and folds his arms. “Come on, let’s go watch a film. I’ve got tapes.” He blows a kiss, and as he walks out, his perky ass bouncing in his sweatpants, Kakyoin has to punch his chest to manually restart his heart.
***
It’s about an hour into Rambo and Kakyoin is about to fall asleep. Polnareff is glued to the screen, shovelling chips into his mouth like it’s the end of the world, but the young artist just can’t seem to focus. His eyes keep sliding to the man sitting next to him. The beautiful, huge man next to him-
He needs to shake himself out of this. This is bound to lead to something if he keeps it up, and he swears his life isn’t being penned by a horny film school graduate that types with his dick.
Polnareff cracks open another can of beer and sighs. “Man, I wish I had a girl to come over and watch films with me.”
“What?” Kakyoin says automatically, “I’m not good enough company?”
“Aww, what’s the matter? Jealous? No,” Polnareff sneers, “it has nothing to do with that. I like hanging out with you. I just wish there was someone who I could...you know…” He emphasizes his thought with a suggestive waggle of nonexistent eyebrows as he sidles up next to Kakyoin. He runs his strong, rough hand along the younger man’s pale arm, his voice dropping a bit. “Touch.”
He’s fucking flirting, you idiot! Flirt back! But Kakyoin is rooted to his spot. His face feels like it's burning, and he shifts a little. “Well, I mean, I-”
“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” comes the embarrassed response, Polnareff’s nose and ears also glowing with blush, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I was just keeping it, uh...light-hearted, I suppose.”
“Well...yeah, I get that...” Kakyoin swallows thickly, his eyes trailing unwillingly downward. Polnareff works out quite a lot. It’s part of what makes him, in Kakyoin’s eyes, so attractive. He keeps in amazing shape, is constantly working harder, getting stronger, getting bigger -
“Is there a film playing on my tits? Is that what you’re watching? You don’t seem interested in Rambo. ”
Kakyoin snaps to flustered attention and stares right into bashful blue eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I can’t help it.”
“I mean, it’s okay,” Polnareff mumbles, his grin starting to come back. He looks down at himself, then grabs a hold of his pecs through his shirt. He pushes them together and adds, “you’re not the first. People look at them all the time at the gym-”
Fuck it. If Kakyoin doesn’t make a move now, he never will. His dick hurts and he’s resigned himself to rejection, should it come. He throws his arms around Polnareff’s broad shoulders and kisses him, earning a yelp.
“Kakyoin!-”
“God, no wonder everyone stares. Your tits are huge,” he whispers, grabbing a hold of one and squeezing it with his long fingers. “Maybe if I put my cock between them, it’ll fit.”
Polnareff gasps, a tiny whimper trailing off of the end of his breath. “I-I mean, I don’t think so, I’m not a girl-”
“No, but you don’t think your boobs could handle that?”
“My boobs?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“A-And that is…?” he asks dumbly.
“Take off your top and lemme see.”
“I’m surprised, bro, you’re not usually so forward-”
“Take off your top.”
The Frenchman swallows the lump in his throat and stands up. Kakyoin beckons with his fingers, and he walks, hips forward, toward the couch. He strips his shirt off slowly, tucking some fabric under his pecs and smirking when he feels them bounce.
“Oh my God.”
“What do you think, bro? Are they as big as you imagined them to be?”
“I mean,” Kakyoin says shakily, reaching out and touching him again, “to be fair, I didn’t need to imagine it. You walked all over Egypt with them hanging out of that pathetic excuse for a top-”
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a top-”
‘And you know what, Jean Pierre? I didn’t fucking mind. The whole time, I couldn’t stop staring at your…” He grins, flashing his teeth, “cleavage.”
“You loved looking at my cleavage, huh?”
“I did.”
“Why don’t you get a closer look, then?” Polnareff whispers seductively. He grips the back of Kakyoin’s head and yanks him forward, shoving his face directly against his chest. His skin buzzes as the redhead moans against it.
“Ffffuck-”
“What’s that? I can’t hear you too well. Speak up.”
“Ican’tbreathe-”
“You can’t breathe? Too fat for you, huh? I get it. Don’t think that I forgot the time you offered to buy me a bra,” he boasts, pushing Kakyoin away and getting down on his knees.
“Too bad, bro. I spent your bra money on that light.”
“You gonna put your cock between my tits or what?”
Kakyoin’s heart stops again. “I--Huh?
Blue eyes roll in a near perfect circle. “Come over here.”
He scoots forward on the couch.
“Now, let me see,” Polnareff continues as he runs his tongue over his teeth, “what you’ve got in those trousers.”
“Is there a nicer way to phrase that, you think?” Kakyoin jokes as he lifts his hips and yanks the waistband of his pyjama bottoms down, kicking them off. They were getting a bit too tight anyway.
Polnareff bites his lip. “Let me see, let me see,” he says impatiently.
“Of course, bro. Anything for you.”
He thumbs his shorts, slides them down past his ass, and lets them land on top of his pants. Polnareff’s mouth falls open in a cute little ‘o’ as he gawks, then grins toothily up at the artist. “My God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a perfect cock in my life. Do you do porn? You can tell me if you do-”
“You’re really starting to get on my nerves,” Kakyoin says as a long, shining tendril slithers over the couch, across his left shoulder and down his chest. His Stand, Hierophant Green, materializes behind him and watches with soft, glowing eyes. “Push your tits together.”
“Yes Sir,” Polnareff coos.
Kakyoin licks his lips and lets his Stand crawl up Polnareff’s thigh, curling sweetly over his dick and squeezing, just a little. It makes the older man cry out with pleasure, but Kakyoin’s not done: he licks the palm of his hand and strokes his cock a few times. “Fuck,” he gasps, taking in the sight of his roommate holding his heavy tits together, “you’re beautiful.”
“Aw, come on. You’re going to make me blush.”
“Ugh. Remind me not to compliment you.”
“What? No no,” Polnareff says hurriedly, “I like the praise. I’ll be a good boy, promise.”
“Yeah? As good as you look on your knees, I think I’d like to see you on your back.”
“On my-”
“Bedroom. Now.”
***
They’re back in Kakyoin’s bedroom, but there’s hardly time to describe the scene: Polnareff’s laying on the bed, per Kakyoin’s strict instruction, his thick thighs spread leisurely and his gaze playful. “So do you think I’m going to let you fuck me, or what?”
“Be quiet,” Kakyoin murmurs, and climbs on top of him. He swings one long leg over the other man’s waist and shifts up so his cock is resting on his chest.
“Dude, your balls are right on my-”
“I said be quiet!”
Hierophant is back, snaking around Polnareff’s wrists and holding him down. He starts to say something else, but a particularly thick tendril stuffs itself into his mouth. He moans, his eyes rolling back, and he lets them flutter closed. “Mmmm…”
The sight is nearly enough to make Kakyoin lose it. He grabs Polnareff’s tits and shoves his erection between them, gasping as hot friction presses down around him. “Oh God-” he chokes, and weakly thrusts his hips.
Polnareff’s never been titfucked before, but he always yearned for the opportunity. He lays on his back, bound and gagged by Kakyoin’s Stand, and chokes helplessly as he feels the tip of the younger man’s cock press up to his chin.
“You look so good like that, Polnareff-san. Maybe after I’m done--ghrrh--fucking your fat tits, I can--ahhhah--have a turn on your ass.”
“Mhaghh--”
“What’s that? I can’t understand you with that thing in your mouth.” Kakyoin laughs and grabs an aggressive hold of stiff, hairspray-dense silver hair. “Speak up.”
Polnareff just shuts one of his eyes and whimpers.
“Ohhh,” Kakyoin mocks, “that makes more sense! You want more, don’t you?” He shoves the Frenchman down, leaking precum between his tits, and feels himself start to teeter on the edge of orgasm. “Mm...such a good boy, Polnareff…”
“Mhnhhlgh-”
Kakyoin smiles and pulls the tendril out with a quiet shhlck. “Say that again?”
“You little bastard, I’m gonna-”
“That’s what I thought you said,” he says with a sigh as he puts the tendril back. “Just let me work, okay big guy? Unless you’d rather my cock in your mouth over Hierophant.” He sighs, letting himself get lost in the euphoria the older man’s body provides. Too many nights he’s spent dreaming about this...About having a big, beautiful man to play with.
Is it his roommate? Yeah. Will he regret this? Maybe.
But right now, he’s enjoying himself. And Polnareff looks like he’s enjoying it, too; his eyes are closed, he’s moaning loud enough for Hierophant’s tendril to shake, and his dick presses up to Kakyoin’s lower back. Another tendril slithers up from under the bed and squeezes, hard.
“Aahhhhhnnn-!”
“Too much, baby? Aww, but you’re doing so well. Come on, Polnareff, tell me: who’s a good boy?”
The tentacle comes out, and Polnareff gasps, “I am!”
“And who has the biggest, most beautiful tits in the world?”
“I do!”
“Who do you love to titfuck you? Say my name!” Kakyoin’s not really sure where this sudden, erotic aggression is coming from, but he’s about to cum and therefore couldn’t care less.
“K-Kakyoin-”
“My full name.”
“N-Noriaki Kakyoin! Oh God!” Polnareff’s losing it. His hair falls in messy strands around his face, he’s got drool leaking down one side of his face, and his eyes are cloudy. “Kakyoin I’m gonna cum-”
“Oh, are you?” A low grunt, then, “you’ll wait until I do. You understand me?”
“I--fuck you! Let me cum!”
Kakyoin smiles and speeds up, shoving his dick arder between Polnareff’s tits. Behind him, Hierophant has created a cock ring with its tentacle, aggressively squeezing the soft skin above his balls. He looks like he’s about to cry.
“Please let me cum--please--”
“Aww, you want it so bad?” He feels himself lurch forward, orgasm overtaking him. “Oh--oh fuck...nngh, Polnareff!” With a low, needy whine, two hot strands of cum drip all over Polnareff’s neck and collarbone. It makes the older man lean his head away.
“Eaugh, aw fuck,” he laments, “that’s gross-”
“C’mon baby,” Kakyoin purrs, using Hierophant to jerk his friend off, “cum for me now, won’t you?”
“Ah--I-I feel so--....Ahh...ah…” Polnareff’s eyes cross and roll back as Hierophant speeds up, and whatever he’s about to say dies under another wave of wet, desperate moans.
“Cum for me, whore.”
“AAAH!” Polnareff howls as he throws his head back and cums explosively. Some of it splashes up onto Kakyoin’s back, and he falls, limp, against the bed. Tears dry around his eyelashes, and he weakly tries to push himself up. He can’t.
Kakyoin makes a little “aww” sound and stands up. He grimaces as he feels the cum leak down his backside, and he motions to the shower. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait,” Polnareff says breathlessly, “let me come with you. I’m all...sticky.”
“Alright, alright.”
He smiles, kneels down in the corner, and turns on the blue light. There’s a huge glowing stain on his chest, and Kakyoin groans.
“Polnareff, you idiot, that’s not a neon light. That’s a blacklight!”