Chapter Text
“Oof,” said Joseph, as his back hit the sofa cushions. “Wait, hang on—Caesar, what’re you—?”
“Stop talking already. You'll ruin it."
"Ruin what?"
Caesar just rolled his eyes at the question before relaxing his weight on top of Joseph. He leaned in to leave a trail of kisses along his neck, and Joseph's entire body shuddered in response—emphasis on entire.
"Shit, Caesar, what the fuck are you—?"
"Quit playing dumb, Jojo."
"Dumb? You're the one who's gone mad, apparently!"
"You kissed me, idiot." Caesar fixed him with the soberest stare he could muster. "Do you want this or not?"
Joseph's mouth fell open.
"Are you... are you genuinely asking me if I want to...?"
"Jesus Christ." Caesar pulled back again so he could shrug himself out of his jacket. "How about this—I’ll get us undressed, and you can use that time to work on your answer.”
“That’s crap,” Joseph said weakly, but Caesar just moved in again and slid his tongue deep into his mouth, giving Joseph the kind of tobacco-flavoured kiss that made a man realise he was in trouble.
Big trouble.
Master Lisa Lisa had left for Venice quite suddenly that morning, apparently having some sort of secretive business to attend to. She required Messina, Loggins, and Suzi Q to accompany her, yet all four had ordered the boys to continue their training regiment at any cost. Joseph’s life was on the line, after all, and their final trials were still scheduled for tomorrow.
Yeah, right. Even Caesar agreed that without some extra time to recuperate, the torture they’d endured these last few weeks might all be for naught.
“I’m planning on a long bath after this,” Caesar announced to Joseph, just as they finished breakfast. Joseph couldn’t understand how he was acting so casual—without Lisa Lisa around to bark orders at them, it all felt so unnervingly calm. “And a nap afterwards, if you’ll agree to be quiet.”
“If I agree?” Joseph raised his eyebrows. “How about you make me an offer first?”
“What, you can’t just shut up for a couple hours?”
“I could, but why would I? Seriously—what’s your offer?”
Caesar let out one of those delightfully exasperated sighs of his.
“Fine, Jojo—if you can make it ‘til noon without bothering me, I won’t make you put your breathing mask back on. But I’m still having us resume training sometime later today, understand?”
“That’s more a threat than an offer, I think.”
“Shall I put the mask back on straight away, then?”
“No, thank you!”
As much as he hated to admit it, just being able to breathe normally again had Joseph feeling energised like never before. Rather than retire upstairs as Caesar had done, he immediately put his newly liberated mouth to good use. He brushed his teeth no less than three times, chewed through an entire pack of bubblegum, even jogged to the beach so his tuneless singing could be drowned out by the waves.
It was nice just to exist without his lungs burning and muscles straining. He breathed in deeply, letting salty air sting at his nose, and soaked in the joy of just being alive.
Seven days left, said a little voice in his head, and that was the end of that.
The sun was creeping high overhead now. Joseph sighed. He decided that rather than let himself think too much, he wasn’t about to let his comrade in suffering go unbothered for much longer.
Upon returning to their living quarters, he had the idea to raid the cellar for whatever treats he could get his hands on. (Italians took their lunch much later than normal people, Joseph had learnt, so even his daily battles with hunger seemed never-ending.) Joseph was thrilled just to find a tin of chocolate biscuits, but then he made an even greater discovery: a dusty rack full of neglected wine bottles, the kind reserved for special occasions if they were remembered at all.
And what an occasion it was. Joseph took his spoils and practically ran upstairs to Caesar’s bedroom, burst through the door, and announced it was time for a celebration.
It hadn’t been a serious suggestion. He’d expected—maybe even anticipated—a groggy-eyed Caesar to throw him straight back into the hall. Then Joseph would’ve had an excuse to keep the wine and biscuits all to himself. But no, there Caesar was by the window, a box of cigarettes in hand, blinking at him with surprise.
“I thought fags were contraband around here,” said Joseph, frowning. “How have you even got those?”
“I know all the good hiding spots.” Caesar concentrated energy at his fingertip and lit his cigarette with the Ripple. “I know you don’t like the smell,” he added, “but I’m antsy, and I know what calms me down.”
It looked like Caesar hadn't taken that nap after all.
“Can I try one?” Joseph asked. He remembered sneaking a cigar when he was about fourteen, which was exactly he’d developed a distaste for tobacco, but maybe Caesar was right. If having a cigarette could calm a person down, he’d try his best to tolerate it.
Caesar sucked in his first lungful of nicotine and held his breath long enough to savour it. Then he turned towards the open window to breathe out a cloud of smoke.
“I’ve only got two left," he told him. "So no.”
“Wanker,” Joseph complained. “I’m not about to share my alcohol either then, how about that?”
“I don’t want whatever cooking wine you’ve stolen from the kitchen, Jojo.”
“These aren’t from the kitchen, they’re from the cellar. For example, this one says Moscato d'Asti—sounds fancy, doesn’t it? But now that you’ve scorned me, it’s all mine.”
Finally Caesar began to look interested.
“You butchered that pronunciation, just so you know. And you will be sharing that with me, thanks.”
“I’ll trade you a glass for a fag, how about that?”
“Quit trying to negotiate,” Caesar huffed. “The wine isn’t even yours, dipshit.”
“Then what can I trade you for, then?”
“Just—” Caesar shook his head with annoyance and flicked some ash away. “Just go fill the ice bucket, would you? I’ll let you have a puff when you get back.”
Joseph scurried out of the room, grinning. While getting day drunk didn’t seem to offend Caesar’s sensibilities, the thought of drinking unchilled dessert wine clearly did.
About an hour later, Joseph felt it safe to say he was having the time of his life. He was drunk, Caesar was drunk, and dammit, even if he still hated tobacco, his body felt like it was his again. He knew it couldn't last forever, but that was exactly why he intended to make the most of it.
"Y'know," Joseph said, nibbling at a biscuit like a mouse, "I'd heard about the canals here in Venice, but I just thought it was bullshit. Surely there wasn't just some fairy tale city with water where the streets should be."
"I wasn't born a Venetian," Caesar told him. "Before Lisa Lisa first brought me here, even I had no idea there was a whole network. I pictured one big channel, I guess."
"Where we you born, then?"
"Genova. Or Genoa, if you're English."
"Oh, you mean like the salami?"
Caesar kicked him, though half-heartedly.
Granny Erina liked to tease Joseph at times like this. They had this joke about there being a little imp that came alive in Joseph when he was in good spirits, and sure enough, Joseph was feeling the beginnings of that sort of mood. Soon the conversation took a raunchy turn, and Caesar was laughing, and Joseph couldn’t stop thinking about how this moment would never come again.
You should kiss him and see how he reacts, Joseph’s brain had urged him. Y’know, as a prank. It’ll be hilarious.
Yeah, well, it turned out Joseph’s brain was fucking stupid.
“Caesar,” Joseph hissed, blocking Caesar’s hand as it moved to lift up his shirt. “God, your mouth tastes awful, first of all—”
“Are you still going on about that?”
“More importantly, just how fucking drunk are you?”
“I’m a little drunk,” Caesar admitted. “Drunk enough to want to fuck you, at any rate.”
“Oh hell,” Joseph groaned. Those words should not have sent him squirming, thank you very much. “I didn't mean anything by it, alright? I was just teasing!”
“And you did a great job of it.” Caesar’s eyes flicked upward. “Want me to suck you off?”
“Excuse me?”
“What? Do I need to make my meaning clearer?”
“No, I just—you’re bent? But what about all those girls you’ve—?”
“Not everyone is all one way or another. Girls are my preference, but..."
Caesar hooked a finger under Joseph’s chin and tilted his head to see him better, making him feel like a horse at an auction.
"Plenty of men do it for me too, if I'm being honest. Don’t take it up the arse, though.”
“Ohhouh,” said Joseph. It made him sound like a dying animal, appropriately enough. “Alright, well—"
“I prefer to be on the other end of things,” Caesar amended.
"Caesar," Joseph complained, more shrill this time. He worried that those biscuits he’d eaten would be making reappearance any time now. "Seriously, in case you haven’t noticed—!"
But Caesar wasn't listening: he boldly opened up the front of Joseph’s jeans and sunk a hand inside so he could palm his cock through his pants. Joseph gasped as his hips began to lift involuntarily.
“You’re hard as fuck, Jojo,” Caesar murmured. “Ready for it, huh?”
“Not emotionally,” Joseph croaked. “Caesar, I’m trying to tell you—!”
“You don’t have to talk yourself out of doing something you want, you know.”
“I’m not—I don't—just stop already, Christ!”
The good news was that once Joseph finally managed to spit it out, Caesar stopped. He frowned at him, eyes searching him, but he wouldn’t ignore such a clear instruction.
“What the fuck?" he demanded. "What are you panicking for?”
“I just…!” God, and now Joseph was having some very mixed feelings about Caesar removing his hand from his crotch. “The atmosphere was getting to me, that’s all!"
"The atmosphere?"
"Yes! And I just wanted to see how you’d react, I didn’t think you’d actually—”
“You wanted to see what would happen?" Caesar laughed at him outright. "That’s called coming on to me, Jojo.”
“But…!” Joseph brought his hands to his face in an attempt to cover up his look of dawning horror. “But if I did come on to you… wouldn’t that have to mean I’m…?”
Now Caesar's expression turned smug.
“You need to figure that one out yourself.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Let’s just get it out of our systems,” Caesar urged him, like he was the only one making any sense around here. “We’ve both been stuck in close quarters for weeks already, and I’m sick of it too. Whatever's going through your head right now, I don't even care. I’m not about to say no to getting some relief.”
“What, and you’re just fine with all this? With me?”
“I don’t find you totally unappealing, believe it or not.” Caesar made a funny movement with his mouth. “Besides... I’ve kind of got a thing for the bratty type, if I’m being honest.”
Oh God, Joseph thought. He thinks I’m the bratty type. His idiot brain seemed to be taking direct orders from his groin at the moment, however, so this information just inflamed him further.
“Caesar,” Joseph said again. "We can't do this."
"Why not?"
Joseph sputtered.
"Well...! I mean, first of all, do we even know when Lisa Lisa's coming back? She'll kill us both!”
“She didn’t say, but there's only one boat that comes and goes. It isn't like she can walk in on us if there's no way back until sometime tomorrow.”
“That still doesn't mean she won't find out!"
“Do you think she's psychic or something? And I’d be more worried about her finding out we did fuck all today, if I were you.”
Joseph inhaled. Caesar's insistence they could get away with it definitely made the idea more tempting, but...
"What?" Caesar prodded, as silence stretched out between them.
"If... we did do it," Joseph ventured, with a level of caution he usually avoided, "it wouldn't change anything, would it? I mean… would this mean anything to you, besides just blowing off steam?”
“God, no. Absolutely fucking not.”
Joseph felt something shift inside him. Here he was, having spent the last few weeks under torturous strain, just trying not to think too hard about what came after. And even if he lived past the encounter with the Pillar Men, what then? A tidy future full of dinner parties, dead parents’ expectations, and some poor woman stuck trying to turn him into a respectable husband?
No, thanks.
This, though—this was something Joseph wanted for himself.
And right now, he really, really wanted Caesar Zeppeli to suck the sense out of him.
“Caesar," Joseph said again, finally lowering his hands, "are any of your grandparents still alive?”
“Not to my knowledge. Why?”
“Must be nice not having anybody left to disappoint."
Caesar rolled his eyes at him with more drama than a theatre school.
“I can’t believe you just said the one thing that could make me reconsider.”
“No, no, too late for that.” Joseph shook his head at him. “I think you're right—there's no point trying to talk myself out of it. We should just... do it. While we've got the chance."
Caesar looked at him skeptically.
"Are you being serious right now? Or is this another joke?"
"I'm choosing to accept the consequences of my actions." Joseph swallowed, then dutifully lifted up the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. "And accepting your offer."
"Oh, piss off. Stop messing around."
“I’m not messing around.”
Caesar stared.
“Then what the fuck are you doing?”
“Seizing the moment? Helping a friend in need?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re the one who offered!” Joseph said, gesturing between them. Caesar gave him a look like he still wasn't buying it, so he decided to make one final plea. “Look, I still think this is fucking weird. I'm probably fucking weird. But at this point I figure my options are getting my dick sucked or continuing to spiral, and I'd rather have the former!"
Caesar exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was trying not to laugh. Then he nodded.
"I'll still do it if you want me to."
"That's what I'm saying!"
Rather than respond further, Caesar surprised Joseph by getting up off the sofa entirely. He reached for his wine glass and drained what was left.
“I don’t want to risk sobering up halfway through,” he explained.
“Oh, fuck you," Joseph spat. "I was honest, and this is the thanks I get?”
“Get over yourself, Jojo. Just let me see your cock.”
Joseph let out a resigned sigh. Hopefully I don’t live to regret this, he thought to himself, but lifted his hips up anyway so he could ruck down his jeans. His underwear followed, revealing muscular thighs and a swollen, dripping prick.
“Oh,” said Caesar, in a voice full of pleasant surprise. “Not bad.”
“Just stay away from my arse,” Joseph told him, which made Caesar laugh at him outright.
“A lot of people would say the opposite, you know. I could teach you why, if you want.”
“No, thanks,” Joseph deadpanned. “I don’t think I trust a pervert like you with the sanctity of my backside.”
“Says the man with his dick out.”
“It’s out because you told me to!”
“And it didn’t occur to you to refuse?” Caesar retorted, which knocked Joseph’s next argument clear out of his head. “Whatever—we’re starting now, if you’re done being a princess.”
Joseph frowned at the comment yet felt his cock twitch against his thigh with anticipation—apparently, not all of his parts came equipped with a sense of dignity.
Caesar just smirked at him as he returned to the sofa.
“Ready?”
Joseph’s breath caught as Caesar pressed a firm hand to his belly. He began by following the trail of hairs down to his waistline, then teased him by drawing just two of his fingers down his length.
“Oh." Joseph's head immediately fell back. "Oh God."
“Jesus, Jojo. You’re either really sensitive or really horny—which is it?”
“You’re the one who—!” Joseph felt like Caesar's gaze was piercing through him, so he closed his eyes. Unexpectedly, it seemed to actually enhance the sensation. “I can't believe you actually offered to do this. You seriously haven’t got any qualms about it?”
“I haven’t got any what?”
“You’re telling me—ah—you don’t know what ‘qualms’ are?”
"This isn't my first language, idiota."
Joseph squirmed as Caesar pushed his foreskin back so he could massage his tip with his thumb. Caesar was just playing with him so far, that much he could tell, but there was something about knowing that that was starting to drive him up a wall.
“It means—mmngh.” Joseph found it quite difficult to string words together as his nervous system began lighting up like a Christmas tree. “It means like—when you’ve got moral reasons to doubt, ah, what you’re doing—”
“Well I doubt my pride’s ever going to recover from this, but…” Caesar trailed off so he could spit into his hand and fully wrap his fingers around Joseph’s cock. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a blowjob, not a moral dilemma.”
“M-m-mph." Joseph whimpered because of Caesar's too-slow strokes. “How—how the hell do you know the word ‘dilemma’ but not ‘qualms’?”
“How many words of Italian do you know, Jojo? I think that’s the better question.”
“Fuck if I know—mng!” God, Joseph was going to kick him if he made that twisting motion again. “God dammit, Caesar, I don't know. Can I count knowing the names of different types of noodles?”
Caesar turned his head away. The hand on Joseph’s dick slowed down almost to the point of stopping.
“Caesar,” Joseph hissed at him, for what felt like the umpteenth time. “Don’t you dare leave me hanging—”
“I’m not, I’m just trying not to laugh in your face.”
“You’re either stalling or trying to torture me, is what you’re doing!”
“You don’t like foreplay?”
“Not when I’m already this hard! Be productive, would you!”
Caesar snorted.
“Alright. Turn towards me and get your legs more apart—bring your hips forward, too.”
Joseph didn’t quite understand what Caesar meant until he moved off the sofa and knelt down in front of it, waiting. Joseph rearranged himself hastily, though he did hesitate before spreading his legs to either side of Caesar’s shoulders. The whole affair had been plenty embarrassing already, thank you, but presenting himself in such a way just seemed like a violation of all the good manners he’d ever learnt.
“Exactly what I wanted. Good boy.”
Oh.
Oh no.
An icy chill came over Joseph, followed immediately by a heat that made him feel likely to combust. More horrifying still, Caesar had noticed his reaction and was now peering up with him with a look of definite intrigue.
“Would you please just get on with it?” Joseph begged.
“Right,” answered Caesar, and shook off whatever thoughts he was having. Next he took Joseph’s erection back in hand, pumping it a few times before brushing against it with his lips—Joseph’s cock quivered in response, aching for some bloody relief.
“Caesar, please.”
“Hm?”
“I’m begging you here,” Joseph whinged. “You can’t just wind me up like this and then—”
“Why don’t you try asking nicely, then?”
“You twat,” Joseph groaned, which had Caesar smiling slyly at him. “Please!”
“Please, what?”
“Fuck off! Just make me cum already!”
Joseph looked down breathlessly and saw that he’d finally managed to make Caesar fluster as well. He rewarded Joseph by putting his free hand on his thigh and leaning in, pressing his tongue fully to the underside of his cock.
“Ohhh.”
Joseph trembled as that brilliant tongue explored him, teasing him in all sorts of lovely ways. It became obvious that Caesar was getting off on pleasuring him, judging by the heavy flush on his cheeks, which wasn’t something Joseph thought he could understand at all. This must have been why Caesar insisted on dragging things out, aside from the suspected sadism of it all.
“I like those faces you’re making,” Caesar informed him, as he finished kissing his way down Joseph’s shaft. “You should keep doing that.”
Jesus Christ, Joseph thought, legs curling helplessly around Caesar’s back. Somehow it had only just sunk in that he was having sex with a literal bugger, and even that knowledge couldn’t dissuade him from wanting more.
“Caesar, please—”
Joseph sounded desperate even to himself, though fortunately Caesar seemed to have had his fill by now. He shifted obligingly to a new position.
“Here goes,” Caesar warned him. “Don’t make me choke, Jojo.”
It was the last thing he said before swallowing him down. Joseph couldn’t help but groan as Caesar’s lips and tongue slid down his cock and then up again, over and over, finally giving him what he so desperately craved.
“Oh Christ… ohhh fuck…”
Joseph understood at once what Caesar meant about choking: his instinct was to start thrusting into that wet heat, but there just wasn’t enough room in Caesar’s throat to take all of him at once. Joseph tried to control himself by grabbing the arm of the sofa but accidentally knocked a lamp over instead. Caesar reacted to this by pulling Joseph’s dick out of his mouth with a wet pop.
“Grab onto my shoulders or something, stupid!”
“Okay, okay!” Joseph straightened the lamp clumsily, then did exactly what he was told for once and gripped Caesar’s shoulders. “Christ, Caesar, just keep going!”
Caesar shook his head and started again with a renewed seriousness, this time sucking and swallowing as much of him as he could while using his hand at the base. And that’s when it became almost magic: Caesar’s incredible tongue was clearly practised as it swirled down his cock, and Joseph rewarded him with a creative stream of curse words.
“Oh shit, Caesar, I’m—”
They hadn’t been at it long, but the sensations in Joseph’s groin were building dangerously fast. He let go of his shoulders and wove his fingers into Caesar’s hair, wanting more of anything, of everything, and then yes, oh yes, one more hard suck and orgasm took him, sending waves of pleasure up his spine.
“Fu-u-ck…”
Caesar skillfully stroked him through it, removing his hand only when it got to be too much. Joseph sighed when it was over, head fuzzy, body fluttering—it all felt rather surreal to him right up until Caesar produced his handkerchief, covered his mouth with it, and spit out a mouthful of spunk.
“Gross,” Joseph told him, foggily.
“Better than swallowing it,” Caesar told him, sounding more hoarse than before. It was sexy in the oddest way. “Or having you finish on my face.”
“And you called me a princess?”
“Yeah, yeah. Now let me go wash this out, and then it’s your turn when I come back.”
“My turn?” Joseph noticed Caesar’s jeans tenting when he stood up in front of him, which made perfect sense. “You want me to...?"
"Obviously?"
"Oh." Joseph suddenly felt very far way. "I mean—er. Alright. I get you."
If Caesar understood the depths of Joseph's uncertainty, he certainly didn't show it. He just left his bedroom wordlessly but with a faint blush still on his face, then shut the door behind him.
"Fuck," Joseph whispered to himself.
If Joseph had thought he was in trouble previously, it might be nothing compared to what was to come.