mylegacy | ic inbox ( ruby city )

[. . . So.]

[Joseph loves him. And Joseph is holding his hand.]

[Which is not new. Not really. They've done this for a while now. Since Joseph got here, actually, that first night when closeness born of fear slipped seamlessly into a desperate need for touch. He's never been so insistent on it since then, but that's just because he's known it was possible, accessible, that he didn't have to fight for it.]

[To lay his hand over Joseph's and twine their fingers together. He doesn't have to fight for that.]

[He doesn't, it's just . . . there. Like he deserves that. Like it's obvious, somehow. But it never has been to him.]

[His breath catches in his throat. He looks up from Joseph's hand to his eyes and gets caught there, looking at him looking back, the absolute unfathomable depths of his eyes, the way his whole body is angled to welcome him close, if that's what he wants — and it is; it always has been, maybe. Or—]

[Does it matter, when and why and how, or should he not care? Should he pick everything apart and analyze, or fly into this uncaring? He doesn't know how to find the middle ground.]

. . . What happens if I say it. If I say I love you. What happens after that?

[But he can at least try.]

[Hearing Caesar say that—If I say I love you.—is enough to cause Joseph's heart to skip a beat, to feel a flutter in his stomach that doesn't feel like anxiety trying to make him throw up on the spot. It's something that makes him have to struggle against getting too far ahead of himself because if is not really the same thing as saying it. Is it? He's really not sure, but he doesn't want to put pressure even now because Joseph's sure that if he does, Caesar will shut down on some level. He'd rather not have an answer right now than have Caesar shut him out.]

If you say it then. . . Then you say it and we figure it out together from there.

[Because nothing needs to happen immediately. Maybe they'll need time for things to settle, to let it sink in that they love each other and that it's okay that they do. Maybe they'll need time to get used to the idea of being more than just friends. Those things seem just as likely to Joseph right now as the both of them jumping headlong into something they don't know quite how to define. Or maybe they do. But the specifics of what they do from that point forward doesn't matter nearly as much as that they do it together.]

But we'll do that, too, even if you don't say it or feel that way. You're always going to be my best friend, Caesar. Nothing can ever change that, remember?

[Nothing can ever change that.]

[He does remember. He does. Joseph's promised that to him time and time again, and Joseph's never broken a promise to him. Not ever. Joseph's the only one who never broke a promise. Joseph cares enough about him never to lie.]

[. . . Joseph cares enough about him never to lie.]

[So if he says, We figure it out together from there, then that's the truth. Because of all the people in the world, he can trust Joseph Joestar most of all.]

[That feels like love, he thinks. But he hesitates, all the same.]

I don't kn—I n—

[Never, ever loved anyone. Let myself love anyone. Let myself believe that I would, or could, or should. But Joseph looks so fucking hopeful. So hopeful, and he's almost smiling, and he brought flowers.]

[God, what a stupid gesture. Stupid and romantic and sweet and, god, he brought flowers to confess his love, fuck, and Caesar can feel his face heating up when he gets it, really gets it, how planned this was, how it wasn't just these things that coincided but that Joseph has been sitting on this for a month, and he decided the best way to bring it up was to bring sunflowers, his favorite flower, and tell him while he had something beautiful in his hands.]

[Something beautiful.]

Jojo, [he manages, and before he can think better of it he's moving, their fingers still tangled together while his other hand finds its way to cup his jaw, hold him still (and oh, god, is he ever aware that this is Jojo, his Jojo, not some girl but his, and he feels strange and uncertain and viciously possessive and dizzy all at once), hold him still, and just.]

[Just kiss him.]

[Because he wants something beautiful, and there's nothing more beautiful than this.]

[It's always a struggle for Joseph to be patient. He's never been good at it. He went from being an impatient child to an impatient teenager to an impatient adult. But he's learn to exert more of it. To ration it out in small pieces so that when it really counts, he can fall back on a large reserve of it. Or maybe that's not it. Maybe it's that when it really counts, he's able to find a hidden reserve. That seems more likely because as Caesar stammers and doesn't seem to know how to say what he wants to say, Joseph can only think that it's okay. It doesn't matter how long it takes, he can wait for Caesar to say what he needs to say.]

[And Caesar talks. It's just not with words.]

[Joseph inhales sharply through his nose out of surprise—which he feels completely foolish for being surprised because one things were set in motion, there really wasn't any other way it could have gone—but he kisses back almost immediately. He kisses back and he pulls Caesar closer yet to him by his shirt with his free hand because with that kiss comes the end of Joseph's patience for the space between them. It doesn't occur to Joseph to think about how he's wanted to do this for weeks. It doesn't even cross his mind that this is his first kiss. He can only think about how warm Caesar's hand is in his and the taste of his kiss and how dizzying the happiness he feels at being kissed like this is.]

[It's beyond what he had ever dared hope for. He knew this, all of it, was a distinct possibility as much as the less desirable scenarios, but he didn't dare hope for it. He didn't dare let himself get attached to the idea that Caesar would want him back, would let himself love Joseph the way Joseph loves him because if it didn't work out that way, he'd be okay in the long-run, but he would also be crushed. He'd be crushed and it would take so much longer for Joseph to be okay again because it would hurt being around Caesar. It would hurt and it would feel like they had taken twenty steps back in some ways with Caesar becoming even more hard and sharp edges than he'd been in the beginning.]

[But that's not what happened. It's never going to happen. What Joseph has instead is someone that he loves kissing him because they feel the same way. And it's so much more than that. It's Caesar allowing himself to have this, too. Joseph squeezes Caesar's hand in his lightly as his other hand lets go of Caesar's shirt in favor of cradling the back of his head. He doesn't need to say it. Joseph knows now. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Joseph knows.]

[There's a moment, when he hasn't stopped because he doesn't want to, not for more than the necessary instants between one kiss and another, when he opens his eyes a little bit, just slightly, and gets a look at Joseph, and it feels like the bottom of his stomach drops out. He's so—]

[A month, Joseph said. It's been a month that he's been thinking about it. How long has it been for him? He was so desperate for closeness before Joseph got here, but only this specific kind, the push and pull that Joseph offers him, safety enough to squabble in, the feel of an arm wrapped companionably around his neck. Since he arrived they've been inseparable, day and night, always close, usually touching.]

[Has he just not let himself think about it? Because what he feels now, the way looking at Joseph makes his breath catch and his heartbeat stutter, it doesn't feel new. Just louder, more present in the foreground. Like it's always been there in the back of his mind, and now he can't ignore it anymore.]

[It's very loud, all of this wanting. Because that's what it is; he wants Joseph, wants him close enough to touch and kiss, wants never to have to stop, wants that look in his eyes directed this way for the rest of his life. He doesn't know if it's the same as love. He's got no idea. But it's different from what's happened before, it's so different, it feels like drowning in that his chest feels like it's expanding, but it doesn't hurt and he doesn't feel in any kind of danger.]

[He wants to ask, How do I know?, but he doesn't. Just moves in quick for another kiss, and then thinks better of it.]

Is it okay?

[Maybe it sounds like is it okay if I kiss you, but that's not what he means. He means Am I okay, is it okay that I don't know, that I'm confused, that I want you so much? Is it okay if I'm not doing this right? Am I really what you want?]

[He really doesn't give Joseph a chance to answer, though, because that's all the patience he's got himself. One second to look, one second to ask, and then he's lunging up for another kiss, needy to make up for too long not knowing.]

[Joseph isn't sure what Caesar is asking exactly, or rather he doesn't know specifically what Caesar is asking is okay or not. He doubts it has anything to do with whether or not it's okay to kiss Joseph when they're already well past that. But asking that question means that Caesar's looking for some kind of reassurance and it seems a little impossible to provide it to him if Joseph doesn't know what he needs or wants it for in the first place.]

[There's hardly any time to think about it before Caesar is kissing him again and it seems that perhaps Joseph has found his answer in Caesar's kiss. He laughs at himself into the kiss, soft, gentle, and quiet in ways that Joseph rarely ever is. As ready as he was to try and figure out the right thing to say to let Caesar know it's okay, that's really all he needs to say. Once again, it's the simplest thing that's the best answer. He doesn't tell Caesar it's okay in words, but it's there in the way he kisses Caesar back and the way his fingers card through Caesar's hair. He doesn't treat Caesar like he's breakable, but certainly like he's important and precious to Joseph.]

[Because he simply is.]

[Joseph doesn't know if he could have managed all the things that happened back home and everything that's happened since he arrived in the city without Caesar here. Maybe he could have, but probably nowhere near close to as well as he has because Caesar's kept Joseph both distracted and secure when he's needed it. Joseph's still not really sure how much stock he puts into fate, but they're two parts of a greater whole now and they feel inevitable. But unlike all the other inevitables that have hung over Joseph's head at one point or another, this one doesn't feel scary. It feels larger than the both of them. It feels like something Joseph is a half-second away from being swept up in and losing all control over. But it's not scary.]

[Joseph's hand leaves Caesar's hair as he breaks off the kiss. For just a moment, Joseph rests his forehead on Caesar's with his eyes closed and seems perfectly content to stay just like that. He probably could. But he does open his eyes and he runs his knuckles gently along Caesar's cheek, the pad of his thumb running a light trail just behind. He doesn't bother with saying a word.]

[Joseph's laugh sends a prickle of fear down his spine, uncertain as he is just for a second whether he's being laughed at. But on second thought, that concern just seems stupid. If Joseph were going to make fun of him, he'd do it outright. And anyway — last time he was worried about that, Joseph just seemed hurt by the implication.]

[It's pretty clear a moment later, when Joseph just barely pulls away, that he's not being laughed at. He can feel his cheeks heating up under Joseph's touch, which is stupidly, almost ridiculously gentle. It's sweet and intimate, and he almost hates it because of how kind it is. That kindness throws him off-balance.]

[Not that he knew what he was doing anyway. It's easy when he initiates things, but that's not what this was. Just because he kissed Joseph first doesn't mean he actually started anything, and he definitely doesn't know how to proceed. He's acutely aware of the fact that he just kissed his best friend, who is very much not a girl, and even if he could make himself stop thinking about it, the way Joseph looks right now wouldn't let him forget.]

[He looks from Joseph's mouth to his eyes and then, all of a sudden, at the cabinet just past Joseph's head, which is fucking fascinating right now.]

You'd be pissed if I used a move like that.

[It's complaining just to complain. He feels wrong-footed, but he can't bring himself to move away, hands coming to rest and clinging to the fabric of Joseph's shirt.]

Mm, I should've . . . asked. [Or something? Help.]

[Well, it's obvious and somewhat predictable that Caesar is trying to pretend really hard like he's not blushing. But while Joseph's willing to leave it be — teasing him about it might make him push Joseph away and all Joseph wants right now is to be close to him — he can't ignore it himself. It's... Fuck, it's really cute and Joseph can only grin crookedly about it to avoid saying so out loud. He feels like he's floating at this point though, so it's impossible for him to 100% filter himself.]

I liked that you didn't.

You.

[He what?]

[He — oh.]

[God fuck shit damn he's gonna die. He presses his lips together in a tight frown for a moment, staring at the floor, which guess what? Is also fascinating.]

[Dying.]

Oh.

[GOD]

Good, then. [aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah]

[Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit. Hoooolyyyy shit. Joseph is almost not even sure that this is really happening right now. He's never seen Caesar be shy, not even for a second. Even when he's trying to put the moves on a girl, he's not shy for show. Not laughing was difficult before, but it's starting to become impossible now.]

[Just to give himself something else to do other than laugh, he kisses Caesar's forehead.]

Mmhm.

[Yeah, he can tell Joseph's struggling not to laugh at him. On the one hand, fuck you. On the other hand, can he actually blame him? This is ridiculous. He feels ridiculous. Joseph's kissing his forehead and he wants to sink into the floor and disappear.]

[Instead he leans in and rests his forehead against Joseph's cheek, hoping that not feeling himself being looked at will make him feel less . . . this.]

Shut up.

[Since he's compelled to say it, or something. Then, more softly:]

I don't know what to do now. I want to do that again, but I don't know if I should until I have a better answer than "maybe".

[He wants to do it again, too. He'd be okay if that was all they managed to do for the rest of the day. That's his first instinct.]

[But instinct isn't always the best thing to listen to in every situation and he thinks perhaps especially in this one. If he'd been listening purely to instinct, this probably would have become a mess quickly after all. So, that leaves Joseph to try and find a balance between what he wants and what will be best for the both of them right now. He's never been all that particularly good in not indulging though, so it's a hard thing for him to do and he's quiet for a long moment before he starts running his fingers through Caesar's hair again.]

I can't really tell you what's right because I'm not really sure myself, but it's okay if you need time to think, Caesar. And it's okay if you take what you want right now or whenever.

[That seems the best compromise, doesn't it? He told Caesar that nothing needed to be decided right this second and he meant it, but he can understand the pressure because he's been carrying its inverse for a month now. So, maybe it makes it easier for Caesar to give the blanket permission that he's allowed to have what he wants if he wants it. That doesn't mean he has to if he thinks that might complicate things or make it more difficult for him to figure out, but it's there much in the way that Joseph always is whenever Caesar needs him.]

[It's almost impossible to think when Joseph's holding him like this. There are fingers in his hair, and he wants to just melt into that touch, stay here forever and never move again. This is the safest he's felt in forever, maybe since before he can remember. It feels right to be here. It feels like this is where he's supposed to be.]

[But he doesn't know what that means. He knows it's new, but he doesn't know what it is, or if he should follow feeling or logic or something else entirely. It would be a lot easier if Joseph just told him what he should do, but he understands — mostly — why that's a bad idea.]

[This is just tiring, thinking about it. He sighs, wraps his arms around Joseph's middle and shrugs a little.]

I want you. I know I want you. But if that's . . . I don't know, if you want that then . . .

[He's mumbling against Joseph's shoulder now, reluctant, words coming slow.]

I want to know what you want, too . . .

[It's funny in that not-actually-funny sort of way how Caesar retreats further into Joseph's hold and against him the more uncertain he gets. He's not really sure when he became an anchor for Caesar like this. He's used to it by now, relying on Caesar to catch him before he can fall, but he's not all that used to the reverse being true.]

I want you, too, [he admits so easily that it's almost a sharp contrast to the way Caesar's speaking into Joseph's shoulder.] I want you and I want you to be happy, Caesar.

. . . Oh.

[Somehow, that's less embarrassing and overwhelming than the rest of this has been. Which is backwards. It doesn't make sense. But it's another thing that just seems right to him, another thing that fits into the world as it should be.]

[He pulls back a little and looks at Joseph again, really looks at him, and he knows what he was thinking before was right. I want that — he does, he wants Joseph to be his, and even if that's not the same as love, or if he doesn't know for a while, maybe that's okay.]

It would make me happy if you kissed me.

[Very little of this has been all that simple, not from Joseph's perspective. He's had to carefully consider how to tell Caesar, when to tell him. He's had to think about the potential consequences beyond just the context of their friendship. Really, the only simple thing of it was knowing what he feels. And it's knowing that without a doubt that helped Joseph get through the other parts. Or rather still getting through the other parts since this is far from resolved.]

[So maybe that's Caesar's simple part. Maybe the simple part to him is knowing exactly what he wants and not having to question the motivation behind it. Maybe having that part, knowing it, will help Caesar figure the rest out when he's ready.]

[One thing Joseph thinks for certain though is that he doesn't need to worry about what might come after this. Caesar, no matter what, is going to be there. Wherever he lands, whatever he decides, Joseph doesn't have to worry about him just evaporating and disappearing like he was never there. He doesn't think Caesar would or could do something that would ultimately devastate Joseph, but he thinks what Caesar wants will certainly keep him there in the long-run, too.]

[Joseph smiles.]

Funny, [he says, placing only a quick peck to Caesar's lips at first.] Me, too.

[And that's all he's willing to spare before he really kisses Caesar this time, hand falling out of his hair again in favor of holding his cheek, fingers lightly curled.]

[He is, very sincerely, about to complain for a moment there. That is not at all what he was talking about when he said kiss, for one thing. For another thing, he didn't give Joseph permission to be a smartass about this, or cute, or whatever he's being. He said kiss me, and that's what he meant.]

[And he's almost ready to say as much, but then he doesn't have to, after all.]

[Joseph's kissing him, really kissing him, and he has to brace himself with one hand back against the counter because for one thing, he was right. This is what he wants. The way he wants it, too, it feels like he's wanted it for a long time, which would be alarming if he wasn't so fine with it. For another thing, he doesn't want to have to focus on standing upright — not when he can just let himself melt as close to Joseph as possible, lean up against him and kiss him like nothing else in the world exists, just for a few minutes. Or the rest of the day.]

[It smells like sunflowers. His fingers curl at the small of Joseph's back; their noses brush together; he takes a moment to just breathe, to register how good Joseph smells, and then he's kissing him again, insistently trying to get closer than close.]

[He likes it a lot more than he thought he would. Which seems like an incredible feat because Joseph was pretty sure kissing Caesar senseless was going to be one of the more incredible things he's ever done, but it somehow manages to push right past all of those expectations to go above and beyond. He likes all the little waves Caesar gives and gives in from the way he presses against Joseph to the way he can only seem to take a second, maybe two, before he has to kiss Joseph again.]

[Joseph feels like his heart is going a million miles an hour, and for once, it's not in a bad way. It's not nerves. Right now, Joseph's got a feeling similar to just waking up from a good nap when you're still wrapped up in blankets and don't have anywhere to be or anything to do until you're damn well ready. Only better. All of this is just better. So much better. He never knew being wanted like this could feel this good or make him this happy, but maybe he just never realized how important it was to have the right person.]

[He bends down a little, breaking off the kiss for a moment and getting a hold on the back of Caesar's thighs to lift him up and set him on the counter since he's leaning on it anyway. It puts them on a little more even height and Joseph finds changes their kisses in little ways that Joseph's pretty sure he'd overlook if he wasn't paying attention to it. He leaves one hand on Caesar's knee, as the other comes to rest on Caesar's chest before kissing him again.]

[For a second he doesn't understand what's happening. He doesn't, not even a little bit; it's disorienting enough to be moving up instead of down, to be shorter instead of taller. He hadn't even considered the possibility of being moved. It just hadn't occurred to him.]

[So Joseph picks him up, just picks him up, and his mind completely stops. Shuts down, quits, refuses to process this for a few moments, because there's a difference between wanting and needing, and if he thinks about this too hard he'll realize how much he needs that to happen again, always, forever.]

[He doesn't even realize what he's doing until it's too late, until his ankles are hooked around the back of Joseph's thighs and he's got a hand in his hair and a hand tracing his spine under his shirt, and he is absolutely in no way going to stop now. That's — that, he wants that, he wants Joseph to do that, but only to him.]

Jojo, you—

[And then he just swears under his breath and bites Joseph's lip and kisses him, helpless and wordless.]

[Joseph wasn't entirely sure what was going to follow after that you, but he supposes almost immediately that it doesn't really matter because Caesar bites his lip and then he's kissing Joseph again like that's the only thing in the world that matters. Maybe it is. Joseph's willing to let it be the only thing that matters if that's how things are. After all, who is he to disagree with something like that?]

[They've touched so much since Joseph came to the city. So many countless times they've held onto each other in some form or fashion, trying to be as close to each other as the other will allow, as they dare. Joseph doesn't think that every time was for the sake of security and safety. Sometimes it was simply to be close to one another. But now, in some ways, it feels like they can't get close enough. Joseph leans in closer as they kiss, his hand on Caesar's knee moving up along his thigh to rest at his waist. It's all new places to touch because even as it seemed like they'd touched all there was to touch, there were still some things neither one of them had dared to before now. Joseph hums softly as his hand leaves Caesar's chest to run his fingers along the slope of Caesar's neck and the jut of his collarbone peaking out from the collar of his shirt. He wants to memorize it. He wants to memorize every inch of Caesar's body, the way it feels under his fingertips. It's not because he's fearful he won't get another chance, but he wants something to remember when they're not this close to each other. Because that part — separating again — is simply inevitable sooner or later. Hopefully later. Much later.]

[He jumps a little when Joseph's hand slides up to rest at his waist. Nothing about this should be surprising, at least not overall, because it's just kissing and touching, but — but everything's surprising him. He breathes in sharply at fingers brushing against his collarbone, eyes opening wide as he pulls away, just a little.]

[Except it's not pulling away to create space, or to make distance, or in any way to stop. He just . . . he thinks it's a good idea, what Joseph's doing, to learn like that. And maybe he has to stop for a moment to catch his breath, and maybe he spends that moment staring at Joseph's mouth again, but Joseph said he can take what he wants. And that's what he wants.]

[On impulse, he digs his heels in and pulls Joseph closer, tipping his chin up to give him more room. Not far enough that he can't look, though, because looking is part of what he wants. Touching is the other part, and he loosens his fingers in Joseph's hair to trace the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw. He ends up with his thumb tracing back and forth across Joseph's lower lip, mesmerized and torn between wanting to kiss him again and just wanting to look.]

[He makes a soft noise, feeling helpless all over again, and leans in to press a quick, light kiss to the corner of Joseph's mouth, next to his thumb.]

You smell good.

[—and then that, also, apparently.]

[This is so different from the way Caesar normally is. It's not that Caesar has such a tight control over himself that he never relaxes — though it is admittedly very rare to get him to relax all the way without a lot of effort going into it — but he always, always has a filter. He doesn't think about and choose what he's going to say before he says it, but he doesn't let everything that comes to mind slip out. That's more Joseph's thing.]

[And yet here he is, stammering at times and saying whatever comes to mind off the cuff instead of investing thought into whether or not it's okay to say it in the first place. Joseph can't keep the grin off his face even as he turns his head a little to kiss the pad of Caesar's thumb.]

Do I?

. . . Mmhm.

[He can't even mind the grin, not really. He should, but he can't. It's another thing he wants, he's pretty sure, for Joseph to grin like that at him, because of him, like this but also everywhere, all the time. He does mind that Joseph turns his head a little, and chases after him, cupping his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth again.]

I don't know what it is, you just . . .

[And now he can't move away, somehow, stuck where he is mumbling against the corner of Joseph's mouth. He feels possessive and off-balance at the same time, a slight crease between his eyebrows as he tries to find words.]

You just do, [is where he lands in the end, and turns his head so he can kiss Joseph properly, soft and slow and thorough. Halfway through he realizes what he's actually said and feels a little mortified, but it's too late to take it back now.]

[Joseph doesn't make fun of Caesar for talking like that even though he could, and maybe it'd be a little predictable if he did. But he doesn't feel like it right now. He just feels like letting Caesar be because letting Caesar be means kisses like this where he feels like Caesar might be trying to steal his breath away. And he's more than happy to give it to him. He'd be willing to give the world to Caesar right now if he asked for it, if it was something he really wanted.]

You do, too, [he murmurs between the soft and slow kisses in a sigh. And he does.]

[While stealing Caesar's scarf has not been intentional, it's never been an unpleasant surprise once Joseph's realized what he's done. Because he's always been able to indulge in burying his face into it under the guise of protecting his face against the cold and inhaling the clean scent Caesar carries around all the time. Never would he have thought he'd find that smell so attractive and so pleasant, but in the mornings, he finds himself a little closer to the pillows Caesar slept on the night before. Especially if Caesar just got up and his heat is still there, making the bed feel a little less empty until Joseph can fall back to sleep.]

[Oh. Somehow he wasn't expecting that, either. He really should've — Joseph spends so much of his time just burying his nose in his hair, and that, at least, he's noticed. But it's such a strange thing to hear Joseph say. Is it strange like that for Joseph to hear it from him?]

[He's thinking all of this, but only distantly. It's hard to contemplate theoreticals when Joseph sounds like that, words coming out on a soft exhale. It makes him pause, readjust, cupping Joseph's face in both hands and petting his cheeks with his thumbs. He has to feel this out, he knows, because it's not . . . it's not like it was before. Not just because it's Joseph and not a girl, but . . .]

[He's not even thinking about the fact that he's dead and Joseph's alive, or how this isn't fair to other people. None of that. What he's thinking is that he feels right now as though this is the closest to feeling good, really honestly good, that he has in over a decade. Wanting someone and being wanted back, that kind of — of evenness, not having to be in charge of everything, he didn't know it would feel like this. And even if he wanted to, he couldn't get his feet back under him by doing any of the things he usually does, because Joseph would know and — and stop him, somehow, just look at him and stop him with a smile alone, probably.]

[He wonders how long Joseph's been in love with him. He wonders how long before that Joseph wanted him. Is there a difference, for Joseph? Is that why he was so angry that first day at the restaurant? Is it crazy, to think it goes that far back? But he doesn't know himself if he wanted something like that, doesn't know for sure that he didn't. That fight, it wasn't like this, but he just . . .]

[He wanted Joseph to pay attention to him. And Joseph wanted that, too. He remembers.]

[Thinking about it like that, it's a little too much. He shivers and leans up for another kiss, letting his hand slip down to rest at Joseph's waist, fingers tightening in the hem of his shirt.]

You taste good, too. Jojo. [My Jojo, he thinks, and he knows he doesn't have the right to say it out loud yet. But it still feels true.]

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