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“I’m starting to regret this,” Joseph said uncertainly as Caesar all but dragged him into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.
“Nonsense,” Caesar grinned, releasing his wrist to gently push Joseph back onto the edge of the bed. He turned to his desk, gathering his supplies as the other man fidgeted behind him. “I’ve never known you to back down from anything.”
He returned to the bed and sat down beside him, the mattress dipping slightly from their combined weight. Shifting his body so that he was facing Joseph, he reached up and gently pinched his earlobe between two fingers, eliciting a surprised gasp. “JoJo,” he began, frowning, “Are you really this scared? You’ve gone through worse than a little piercing.”
“Yes, but never willingly,” Joseph whined, pulling away from Caesar’s touch. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze fell on the tools laying across the desk. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the needle, face losing what little colour it had left. “I don’t know if I can do this, Cae.”
Caesar leaned back, surveying the man before him. Joseph was anxiously wringing his hands, brows furrowed as his eyes darted around the room. Really, he thought with exasperation; Joseph had put himself in this position, having all but begged Caesar to go along with it.
They had been lounging one evening in the small library the island housed. Caesar was curled in an armchair reading his book, nursing a glass of wine, while Joseph lay with his back against the rug and fidgeted with his clackers. Caesar liked to take the evenings for himself, trying to relax after the chaos of the day and recovering from whatever ordeal their relentless teacher had put them through. Joseph, however, rarely allowed him more than a few moments of peace. He was like a lost puppy, insisting on following him around wherever he went.
“Caesar,” Joseph began as if on cue, voice laced with a note of curiosity that almost always preceded a stupid question.
“Yes?” Caesar answered, snapping his book shut with an exasperated sigh.
“Why do you have all that metal in your ear?”
He glared at him over the rim of his glass. “Don’t be stupid. You know what earrings are, JoJo.”
Joseph tilted his head with exaggerated innocence. “Yes, but Granny always said they’re vulgar and that only boorish women wear them. You’re neither boorish nor a woman.”
Caesar merely scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief at his shameless ignorance.
“So,” Joseph continued, undeterred, “Why do you wear them?”
He swore under his breath, irritation creeping up on him as he observed Joseph’s maddeningly naïve expression. “Because I like it, you idiot. Do I need a reason?”
Joseph sheepishly raised his hands. “Not at all, no need to be defensive. I was only wondering.”
“Great.” He pointedly opened his book again, burying his nose into it and emphasising that he was finished answering redundant questions for the night. Thankfully, Joseph let him alone for the time being, although Caesar could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. He was clearly thinking hard about something, evident in the crease of his brow and how he drummed his fingers against his chin.
“What?” He snapped eventually, making Joseph jump from the abruptness of his tone.
“I didn’t say anything!”
He tossed his book aside, having given up on it, and fixed him with a stern glare. “I can hear that tiny brain of yours actually working for once. What is it?”
Joseph hesitated, seemingly uncertain as to whether he should open his mouth. Never one to hold back, he finally said, “I think they suit you.”
Caesar blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected that. “Thanks.”
“I thought it was just tarts who had piercings, but you make them look so cool,” he continued, propping himself up against the floor with his forearms and shooting him an earnest smile. “They look good. They actually seem masculine on you, you know?”
“Goodness, JoJo,” he said, slightly flustered and feeling rather decidedly unmasculine in that very moment. “I get it, thank you.”
Joseph shrugged, seemingly unaware of the effect of his compliment, and returned to fidgeting with those clackers of his. Caesar groped around once again for his book and opened it to a random page, this time to bury his face in it as he pondered Joseph’s words. He wasn’t aware the man paid so much attention to his appearance, and the realisation sent a delighted thrill through him that he tried to quell, embarrassed. Nobody, let alone Joseph of all people, should be having that kind of effect on him. Yet there was something about the way he had said it—with pure, wholehearted sincerity. It made him feel weak.
His eyes drifted to where Joseph was laying on his back, idly spinning his clackers, and a brilliant idea struck him. Before he could give it much thought, he asked, “Want me to pierce you?”
Joseph’s head shot up, expression eager. “Really, you would?” His eyes had that characteristic glint, and he was practically vibrating with excitement on the floor. “Yes, yes!”
Caesar couldn’t help but return his grin, his enthusiasm infectious. He thought for a moment, deciding to make the most of the situation. “I’ll do it. But first, you need to beat me in one of our sparring sessions.”
“You’re on.”
His promise seemed to be more effective than any encouragement their teacher had offered, as Joseph’s efforts during their training bouts visibly doubled in the following days. The difference was stark, Caesar found himself thinking one morning as he watched Joseph bent over and panting, sweat pouring down his face after a particularly rigorous session. Not that Joseph had ever been a slacker, with the threat of imminent death looming heavy overhead, but now it was as though he had tapped into some secondary power. He must have really wanted that piercing.
It was only a few days after his initial promise that Caesar found himself sprawled across the cobbled ground, having been nailed with a particularly vicious blast of Hamon. He shook dust and debris from his hair and looked up to see Joseph standing over him, hand outstretched, an elated grin spread across his face. Caesar rolled his eyes, taking his hand and standing up straight.
“Alright, alright, you got me,” he said with a sigh, although he could not suppress a small smile as Joseph cheered, his excitement palpable. “Let me at least clean up, then I’ll go grab some tools.”
Joseph had followed him back inside, talking the entire time and barely allowing him to get a word in edgeways. Caesar had to physically kick him from the bathroom just so he could shower in peace, promising to come for him later that evening.
Except, when he had knocked on Joseph’s door, he had been offered a subdued greeting and heard hardly a peep from the man the whole way back to Caesar’s room, a far cry from his earlier talkative self. Reality had dawned on him and, faced with the sharp metal of the safety pin, Joseph was a nervous wreck.
“Will it hurt?” He asked in a small voice, watching with wide eyes as Caesar bustled about the room.
“Yes,” he responded bluntly. Then, at Joseph’s frightened squeak, his expression softened. “It’s not that bad. It’ll hurt for a second, and then you’ll be fine.”
Joseph did not look reassured as he continued, “And you’ve done this before? You know what you’re doing? I mean, I trust you Caesar, but I don’t know if-“
“Hush, calm down,” Caesar shushed, placing a finger gently against his lips. His propensity for physical contact seemed to double whenever he was with Joseph. “Of course I’ve done this before. You’re in good hands.”
Under his touch, Joseph seemed to relax slightly, giving a small nod. “Okay, fine, I trust you. Do your worst. Actually, do your best, please.”
Caesar reached into his pocket, extracting the box of matches he had borrowed earlier from the kitchen. Joseph warily followed each movement.
“For the needle,” he explained in a steady voice, proffering the safety pin for him to inspect. “Now, I’m going to-“
“Stop,” Joseph interrupted, eyes snapping shut as Caesar drew near again. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear it, just do it.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Caesar said softly. He had not expected this level of anxiety from Joseph. “I’m certainly not making you.”
At his words, Joseph’s eyes flew open, gaze hardening as he stared resolutely at Caesar. His posture stiffened. “No,” he ground out, expression determined as he continued, “I’m doing this. I’m not going to be defeated by a tiny little hole in my ear.”
Caesar sighed, half amused and half exasperated by his rapid mood fluctuations. “Whatever you say.” He took a match between his forefinger and thumb, dragging it across the side of the matchbox until it sparked and ignited. He raised the safety pin to the small flame, heating the tip until it was hot against his skin. Then, he placed it between his lips and pulled towards him a bottle of rubbing alcohol pilfered from the medicine cabinet. He was certain it would not be missed.
“Are we drinking?” Joseph asked lightly, nerves betrayed by the waver of his voice.
“No, idiot,” Caesar smiled despite himself, dampening a wad of cotton with the strong-smelling liquid. He carefully cleansed the pin, before turning his attention to Joseph and cupping his face with steady hands, tilting it to the side. His skin was soft, warm beneath his touch, and Caesar tried not to dwell on it. He cleansed the supple flesh of his lobe before discarding the cotton and pulling a bowl towards him. From it, he plucked an ice cube. “This will be cold,” he warned, and at Joseph’s muted hum of acknowledgement, he brought it to his ear.
Immediately, Joseph gasped and jerked back, and Caesar hissed in annoyance as the ice slipped from his hands and onto the floor. “JoJo,” he scolded, “It’s important that you stay still.”
“I couldn’t help it, it was so cold,” he whined petulantly.
Caesar studied him for a moment before huffing a sigh and gripping his shoulders. He manoeuvred Joseph until he was positioned more firmly atop the mattress, sitting upright with his legs stretched out before him. “I’m doing this because I need to hold you still,” he explained, and rearranged himself until he had both knees resting either side of Joseph’s thighs, almost but not quite sitting in his lap. Doing his utmost to direct his focus from the somewhat compromising position, he wrapped one arm around the back of Joseph’s head, keeping it steady.
Joseph, for his part, said nothing, simply staring up at him with a slightly dazed expression.
Using the same arm supporting Joseph’s head, he took a small piece of cork and held it to the backside of his ear. With the other hand, he raised the needle once more, tongue poking from between his lips in concentration.
“You ready, JoJo?”
With how close they were, Caesar heard him swallow before Joseph answered in a tight voice, “Yeah, do it.”
“Deep breath. It’s just a tiny prick.”
“You’re a tiny- ow!”
Caesar quickly poked the needle through his lobe in one smooth motion, cutting short his childish response. Once it was through and caught in the cork, he grabbed the small stud he had prepared and slid the shaft through until it rested comfortably against his ear. He took a moment to inspect his handiwork, a smile spreading across his face.
“Is it done?” Joseph asked in a small voice. Caesar was surprised to see tears forming at the corner of his eyes as Joseph blinked, embarrassed. Battling with the desire to brush them away with the pads of his thumbs, he contented himself with a gentle, reassuring run of his fingers along Joseph’s jaw before settling back against his thighs.
“All done,” he declared, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. He grasped Joseph’s chin, gently tilting his head to allow the jewellery to catch the light. “I’m pretty proud of that, actually. It looks great.”
“Let me see.” He gripped Caesar’s hips, eliciting a startled yelp that went either unnoticed or ignored, and slid him from his lap before standing up. He approached the mirror and examined his reflection, expression lighting up, in good spirits once again. “Wow. I love it.”
Caesar watched him, warmth blossoming in his chest as Joseph happily admired the jewellery. “Want another?” He teased.
“What?” Joseph turned to him with wide, horrified eyes. “No, no that was enough for me.”
“Maybe another time.” He stifled his laughter as Joseph scoffed.
Sitting beside Caesar, Joseph fixed him with a serious expression, nudging his side. “Thank you, Cae, truly. I love it.”
Unable to handle the intensity of his gaze, Caesar simply nodded, mouth dry. He quickly got to his feet and began to search the cupboards, trying to distract himself from the confusing swell of emotions rising within. He pulled out a bottle and two glasses. “Have a drink with me? I bet you could use one right now.”
Joseph enthusiastically agreed, and they spent the better part of an hour lounging in Caesar’s bedroom, sipping expensive wine and chatting idly. Joseph hung onto every word as Caesar explained how exactly to care for the piercing to ensure it healed properly, frightened into obedience with the bloody horror stories Caesar told.
They drank enough to feel a relaxed buzz, both men knowing their teacher would not approve of them showing up to training the next day sullen and hungover. Caesar found himself laying back against his pillows, staring up at Joseph and idly watching his lips as he talked.
Eventually, Joseph directed his attention to Caesar’s other piercings. “How many do you have?”
“Not sure. I haven’t really counted.”
Joseph decided to make it his mission to uncover all of his piercings, and set about counting each one. He crawled to the top of the bed and leaned across him until they were so close that Caesar could smell the sweet wine on his breath. He spent several minutes admiring the numerous piercings, gently prodding and poking at them as he counted. “I didn’t even know one person could have this many. Is that all of them?”
Caesar swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat, struggling to direct his gaze from Joseph’s mouth to his eyes. “Um. No.”
“What?” Joseph backed away, to his combined relief and disappointment, seeming baffled. “Where else can you even get pierced?”
Caesar stared at him for several moments, wondering why he had the urge to share that particular piece of information with Joseph. Perhaps it was the wine making things seem less serious than they really were. His mouth was dry as he answered, “Quite a few places.”
Joseph looked intrigued. “Show me.”
Caesar could not muster the willpower to protest his demanding tone, ever weak for anything Joseph asked of him. Knowing words would fail him, he sat up and beckoned Joseph closer. He cupped his face with one hand and used the other to place a finger against his forehead. Joseph’s breath hitched at the contact.
“Some people get them here,” he explained in a low voice, running a thumb along Joseph’s eyebrow. His finger trailed down to his nose, giving it a poke as Joseph wrinkled it in response. “Here, too.” Traced it down to his mouth, where Caesar allowed himself a self-indulgent moment, brushing his lip with the lightest of touches. "Or here."
Joseph seemed mesmerised, following his every movement. “Is that all?”
Briefly wondering if he was going too far before shoving that doubt to the back of his mind, Caesar let his hand drop from Joseph’s face to his chest. He let it linger, testing his reaction. Then, when Joseph showed no signs of discomfort, he tentatively flicked his nipple through the fabric of his shirt.
Joseph let loose an unwitting gasp, before a teasing smile spread across his face. “I know for certain you don’t have any there,” he grinned, “What with those suspenders you love to wear. That’d chafe something awful.”
“You’re right,” Caesar murmured, feeling more drunk than he knew he was. His hand continued its lazy, languid descent down the expanse of Joseph’s chest, coming to rest at his stomach. He poked at his bellybutton, eliciting a sharp hiss of laughter.
“There’s no way anyone is piercing me there, I’m way too ticklish.”
“Me too.” They both paused.
A brief battle ensued in which Caesar fought off the hand attempting to poke his stomach. He tried to retaliate, but Joseph’s iron grip captured his wrists and held them steady, leaving him at his mercy. “Stop,” he gasped as Joseph’s deft fingers met the soft flesh of his abdomen and relentlessly dug in, eliciting restrained, panted giggles. Joseph was laughing too, an evil glint in his eyes as he continued his assault.
“Not so tough now, eh, Caesar?” He teased as Caesar squirmed beneath him, red-faced with the exertion of straining against his hold. Finally, he took pity and relented, collapsing beside him on the bed.
“Bastard,” Caesar huffed without malice as he caught his breath, unable to feel truly angry when Joseph was smiling so warmly. Joseph merely laughed.
“So.” Joseph said eventually, sitting up once again and facing him. “I still haven’t seen it. Where else could you possibly be pierced?”
Suddenly nervous, Caesar pulled away, face flushing and wondering how he had gotten himself into this position. He felt vulnerable under Joseph’s expectant gaze. Instead of responding, he collapsed back into the pillows, turning his face to the side and burying it in the crook of his arm.
“No way.”
At Joseph’s incredulous tone, he blinked up at him and saw recognition flash his eyes. Joseph had accurately read his silence and was fixated on the space between his legs. He sometimes forgot just how astute the man could be.
“There?” He asked incredulously. At Caesar’s hesitant nod, he continued, “But… didn’t that hurt?”
“I don’t remember. I was quite drunk when it happened.”
“You were drunk?”
Caesar narrowed his eyes, somewhat defensive. “Yes, JoJo. I was off my face in some dodgy underground club, and a guy offered to do it for me. I barely remember a thing.”
Joseph’s mouth was agape. “You let a stranger in a club pierce your dick.” Then, he smiled slyly. “My, my, Caesar. And all this time I was thinking you were some paragon of virtue. You’re not as moral as you act, are you?”
“I never claimed I was moral, idiot, that’s just you spouting all that nonsense,” he snapped, reaching up to flick Joseph’s head in annoyance. “Besides, it’s not a big deal. I hardly notice it.”
“Can I see it?”
Caesar’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard wrong. “What?”
Joseph gave him an easy smile that did not match the words coming from his mouth. “I’m curious. I want to see what it looks like. Please, Caesar?”
Caesar’s brain was currently short-circuiting, and he sputtered, face burning as he tried to find the words. He had never felt more flustered in his entire life, and he couldn’t believe Joseph of all people was the one to reduce him to a blushing puddle. “I—I guess?” He blurted eventually, more a question than a confirmation.
Joseph gave him a blinding smile, before shuffling back and coming to rest on his knees. He looked completely at ease, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about what he had just asked, oblivious to Caesar’s internal panic.
Caesar swallowed, reaching for his waistband with trembling hands. He could hardly comprehend that he was doing this, certain the effects of alcohol were fuelling his poor decision-making. Joseph was eagerly watching, slightly flushed, and Caesar knew his own cheeks were bright red and burning, although not with shame. Rather, under Joseph’s eager watch, he felt a delirious sense of exhilaration. He batted away Joseph’s hands as they came to assist him, feigning annoyance as he snapped “Patience!”, but his enthusiasm was encouraging. The desire to impress spurred him on and he anticipated Joseph’s reaction, craved his approval.
He inelegantly shoved his shorts down until only his underwear covered his modesty, the outline of his cock visibly straining against it. Embarrassment overwhelmed him— he had not realised just how aroused he was, how Joseph’s presence affected him so, yet here was the evidence proud and presented before them. Biting his lip, he chanced an anxious glance at Joseph, expecting to see disgust or, at the very least, surprise at his pathetic state.
Instead, Joseph’s eyes were hooded, his stare dark and intense, and Caesar could not suppress the shiver that overtook his body. Roughly, Joseph whispered, “Go on, Cae, please. Show me.”
Caesar almost whined, letting his head slump back against the pillow. “Gods, JoJo,” he murmured, “You can’t just say things like that.” He could never deny him, however, especially on the rare occasion he asked so politely. Hooking both thumbs in the band of his underwear, he eased them down his hips inch by leisurely inch, until his dick was exposed to the cool air, flushed and hard against his stomach. He did not miss the sharp intake of breath as dark eyes trailed up the length of him, coming to rest at the small, silver barbell adorning the head.
His face managed to get even hotter as he saw Joseph’s expression. His reaction could not be chalked up to mere curiosity; Joseph was enjoying this as much as he was. His pupils were blown impossibly wide, gaze almost worshipful, and he seemed to have no control over his own tongue as he murmured, “So pretty.”
Caesar had always regarded this particular piercing with an inkling of regret, a reminder of his impulsivity and proclivity for the taboo in life—drink, clubbing, and unsavoury interactions with strange men. Yet, as he shuddered beneath Joseph’s awed stare and the reverence with which he regarded him, he felt it had all been worth it.
“Is it sensitive?” Joseph asked curiously.
“Not really,” he answered. His voice was slightly strained.
A pause. Then— “Can I touch it?”
Caesar found himself nodding before he could truly ponder the gravity of that question, or even begin to reflect on how rapidly the situation was escalating. He felt greedy, eager to take as much as Joseph was willing to give, consequences be damned—he could face those come morning.
Joseph moved slowly, as though afraid of startling him, tentatively reaching out to graze his finger across the piercing, his touch featherlight. He gave it a gentle stroke, exploring how the warmed metal felt and how it connected to Caesar’s heated flesh, inadvertently tugging at the skin ever-so-slightly and pulling a startled moan from Caesar. Both boys’ eyes widened, and a brief silence followed.
“Liar,” Joseph said with a slightly devious smirk, watching with amusement as Caesar hid his face in his hands. “You seem to be very sensitive, Caesar.”
“Shut up,” Caesar huffed, cheeks aflame. “You are so infuriating, JoJo.”
Joseph chuckled, resuming his ministrations, teasing the piercing between his fingers and surveying Caesar’s reactions. The barest of touches had heat coursing from his pelvis to his toes, and he was trembling. “I like it, though. Love it, in fact, seeing you like this. All sensitive and shy.” He grinned, allowing his finger to slip from the piercing and brush against the delicate skin of his cock. “It’s a good look on you, Cae.”
Caesar could hardly form a response, rendered dazed and delirious from Joseph’s teasing touches. He felt embarrassed, out of his depth, so used to being the calm, controlled one in their relationship, the one with experience and knowledge and a rational head. Joseph looked up to him, saw him as something of a mentor as well as a friend, and had never seen Caesar so vulnerable before. Yet here they were, with Caesar reduced to a blushing, panting mess from the slightest hint of contact, his emotions and desire clear on his face to be read as easily as any book.
Caesar gasped as Joseph wrapped his hand firmly around his cock, and suddenly all pretence about exploring his piercing was thrown out the window. They stared at each other, Caesar incredulous and Joseph’s eyes gleaming with silent challenge before he began to pump him at a steady pace, tongue resting between his teeth in concentration. Caesar desperately bucked into his touch and brought a fist to his mouth, biting his knuckles to quieten his moans, but Joseph was quick to pull it away.
“Let me hear you,” he said, his pleading tone one Caesar could only oblige. A bright smile lit his face as Caesar immediately obeyed, allowing those embarrassing little noises to escape his lips. “I didn’t expect you’d react so strongly to my touch. Maybe…” His voice adopted a light, teasing lilt as he dragged his hand up and down the length of him, feeling it twitch beneath his palm. “Maybe you’ve wanted this all along. Maybe you like me more than you let on, Cae.”
Caesar squeezed his eyes shut, hating how well Joseph was reading him. Until now, he had been able to lie to himself. He could steal small touches without looking deeply into it, find innocuous reasons to make contact with Joseph; brushing sweat-matted hair from his face after training, letting their fingers brush when passing the salt at dinner, clapping him on the shoulder for a job well done and letting it linger just a second too long.
Offering to pierce him just so he could hold his stupid, handsome face.
He could pretend to ignore that jolt of electricity each time he felt Joseph’s skin against his own, and wrote off his actions as accidental, unintentional, innocent mistakes. Except, now Joseph was seeing right through him.
“It’s okay,” Joseph whispered, and Caesar’s eyes flew open as he felt Joseph’s breath ghosting the shell of his ear, “Maybe I like you right back.”
“JoJo,” Caesar groaned, watching, fixated, as Joseph flashed him a smile before sliding down his chest, coming to rest at his thighs. His face was inches from his cock, breath caressing the heated flesh and making Caesar squirm with want. Joseph's smile was genuine, assured, and he seemed so different from the man who had been wracked with nerves over his first piercing.
“I wonder how it tastes,” he mused aloud, voice dripping with suggestion. “May I?”
At Caesar’s enthusiastic nod, he licked a long, hot stripe up his cock, relishing in the unrestrained moan Caesar released. He focused on the piercing sitting prettily atop the head, flicking it experimentally with his tongue, gently teasing the metal with careful teeth.
“Fuck,” Caesar hissed, tangling his fingers in Joseph’s soft, thick hair. His free hand fisted into the bedsheet as he arched back against the mattress. The sensation was addictive, unlike anything he had experienced before, made so much more exquisite by the fact that it was Joseph lavishing him with attention.
“So sensitive,” Joseph teased, before widening his mouth and sinking down on Caesar’s cock as much as he could manage. Admittedly, it was not much, and he used his hand to make up for what he could not fit. It was messy and graceless, his inexperience shining through, and spit dripped from Joseph’s mouth, down his cock and onto his stomach, but Caesar was in heaven, lost in Joseph’s touch.
“JoJo, please, yes,” he babbled, thighs clenching as he fought the urge to push against his face. He was quickly losing his final traces of composure, overwhelmed by the feeling of Joseph’s warm mouth on him. “You—you feel so good.”
He continued to spout praises that his brain could not keep up with, lost in the hazy blur of arousal, and it was not long at all before he felt himself reaching that delicious precipice. “JoJo, I’m—” He cut off with a whine as Joseph gave his base a firm squeeze. “—fuck, JoJo, I’m so close.”
Joseph merely hummed around him, unrelenting, and Caesar’s hips stuttered as he came, mind going blank as white-hot pleasure coursed through his body. His lips were moving, and he faintly registered that he was blurting a garbled mess of praise as he shuddered against him. Joseph held him through his release, one warm hand pressing firmly against his hip and keeping him steady in place, until he finally pulled off.
Caesar could no longer think, eyes fluttering closed, breathing raggedly as he lay boneless on the bed. There was faint movement as Joseph shuffled around beside him, and then he was at his side, pulling Caesar into his strong chest. His dick was flush against his thigh, but Joseph seemed more focused on the damp strands of hair that had fallen from their usual perfected messy style and were sticking to Caesar's forehead, brushing them aside in an achingly tender gesture. Then, Joseph cupped his face with a gentle hand and pressed his lips to the crown of his head.
A deep warmth blossomed in Caesar’s chest, and he sighed contentedly as Joseph showered him with affection, littering whatever part of his face he could reach with sweet kisses. In any other setting, his mind would be racing, wondering what this would mean for them—Joseph seemed to like him back, was in fact demonstrating his feelings in the most overt way possible, and it felt too good to be true. Yet, as it were, Caesar was too exhausted to think hard about anything. He felt peaceful, settling back against Joseph's warm body.
After a while, Joseph broke the silence. “Can I tell you something kind of stupid?”
Caesar opened one bleary eye. “Why ask now? You’ve never hesitated to before.”
Joseph scowled and flicked his cheek. “Don’t piss me off. I’m not going to tell you, now, how about that?”
Yawning, Caesar simply snuggled further into him. Despite himself, Joseph could not help but wrap his arms around his bulky frame, holding him close. “I didn’t really care about getting a piercing. I just wanted an excuse to be closer to you. Also, I thought you might think I was cool if I had one too.” He laughed sheepishly. “Guess it wasn’t so cool of me to cry while you did it.”
“You could never be cool,” Caesar answered automatically. Then he snorted. “That’s a stupid reason to get a piercing, JoJo.”
“Hey, I’m opening up here, Cae.”
Caesar could hear the pout in Joseph’s voice. He smiled and turned to face him, their faces inches apart. Bright eyes were staring beseechingly into his own, and he melted. “Well. I might have offered just so I could have a reason to touch you,” he admitted, and then leaned up to kiss Joseph before he could respond.
Joseph was quiet when he pulled away, face dusted with pink, a smile playing about his flushed lips.
“Next time, will you let me pierce you?”
“In your dreams.”
Maybe he could be convinced. He could never say no to Joseph.