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Dark waters part for Valkyrie's prow like a maid on her wedding night, shy and viscous-show. They gnash at the ship's stern, scrabbling claws looking for a handhold. Grey clouds hang from the sky, smeared with the few stars that still dared to shine along the silver lining of the moon hung above.
Gyro stands over the poop deck, taking notice of the eerie calm of the night as his crewmen buzz around below his feet. Even the wind holds her breath tonight.
He knows these waters are treacherous and - despite what the stories may tell - Gyro is no fool. Even with his well-known fame of always picking the short-cuts, he knows when the waters aren't fit for sailing. The only reason they’re sailing this far up North in the first place was to escape the British Navy that pursued them. Not the smartest decision, Gyro concedes, but he was bold just like that. And he was also confident that Valkyrie - true to her name, a love letter to the Vikings and their fierce nature - could unravel any sea of any kind like she was built to.
He tugs at the white collar of his shirt, uncaring for the chilly night air as he pulls some of the top buttons undone. It was a gift from his mother, French Navy standard issue, could never stand the damn thing. Too stuffy. And yet Gyro still wore it at all times, so much it has yellowed over time. The sleeves are battered and torn from the constant movement of swinging a sword or throwing a steel ball that Gyro had simply opted for rolling them up to his elbows.
Ever since he was a child, Gyro had been enamored by the concept of piracy - the freedom and adventures and riches in the world - that when his mother had silently gifted him the shirt early in the day her son Julius died and Gyro was born, he clung to it.
Sentimentality.
Or maybe it's just in his blood to care about family, in spite of how much it hurt him.
Gyro sighs, breath white. It's on cold nights like this that Gyro finds himself thinking about Naples. It's been a long time since he last been there. So long that Gyro wouldn't even consider calling it"home" anymore.
The cold nights also make him think of his father - the King's loyal dog. The man had wanted for Gyro to carry on this legacy and execute his duty until his dying breath. He wanted Gyro to live on and create a family of his own, to pass on the Zeppeli's name and technique to the next generations to come.
What a simple life.
Neapolitans had such a simple way of thinking and living. To simply dedicate one's whole life to the duty they were assigned to even before birth, be it beheading the King's enemies or waxing a nobleman's boots. For that was their calling; family above duty, duty above honor. Or something along those lines.
Blessed be those idiotic traditions, for they were the ones that saved Gyro from his beheading. Because for all Gregorio Zeppeli preached about the worthlessness of sentiments, Gyro was still his flesh and blood. On that fateful day, he did nothing to stop his eldest son from hopping on a merchant's boat with the nine-year-old he was ordered to behead.
And it's on the cold nights, that Gyro always wonders. He wonders if his father knows what's of him now and if he regrets not stopping him. He wonders if it should still hurt this much. His father was a ruthless man but one that Gyro respected. A man of duty, but most of all a family man.
"My father's a fool." He speaks to the night air in his mother tongue."He is so blinded by tradition he doesn't see the storm that's approaching." Within the whims of the new influx of the Piracy Era that went through all of Europe to the Americas, the winds of revolution were getting stronger and soon they will grow into something so large no Royal Guard nor castle walls will protect the King. And when the storm comes, Gyro will be prepared to use it to his leverage.
As if replying Gyro, a sudden wind blows against his face. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his chest and elbows and he raises a hand to his hat, holding it in place as the end of his long ponytail slips off his shoulder and whips behind him.
Gyro closes his eyes and grins, taking in the uproar of his crew and the smell of the salt air.
Lady Luck has finally given her calling.
"Cap'ain!!" One of them shouts. Gyro looks down at the man, he's one of the old salt he has contracted back in England. "We lost 'em, I say we take the wind's blessing and follow the course back down the coast, find refuge in America. Britain’s eyes can’t be everywhere.”
Gyro nods firmly, deciding to trust the man's judgment on this one.
"Avast ye! Lady Luck has once more bestowed her grace upon us!" He raises his hand, screaming his lungs out, "Drop the sails! We're going south again! Heave ho!"
Collective shouts fill out the air, louder than the storm itself.
The men on the deck scatter around the ship with the grace of starving rats; running around from side to side, climbing and grasping at the ropes of the sails. They're anxious, Gyro can tell. They all have a good head on their shoulders - experienced, born and raised from the salt. But their will is weak; they're all unfaithful of Valkyrie's true strength.
The door behind opens and Gyro doesn't need to turn to know it's his first mate that's approaching him. Hot Pants always had a stride that was so silent it would make thieves jealous. Gyro doesn't need his ears to know someone's approaching, though.
"Captain," Hot Pants addresses him, waiting until Gyro's whole attention is on her. When it does, she lowers her voice just a whisk over the storm and slips into heavy-accentuated Neapolitan, "You may want to rethink our cruise. Diego's crow has finally arrived with an update on the Joestar situation."
Gyro raises his bows. Hot Pants’ pronunciation was still a bit clunky, though the linguistic elements between hers and Gyro's mother tongue were enough to make them understand each other. They had even made up their unique dialects and slipped into them depending on what they would talk about or who could be eavesdropping. Despite his crew's reliability at handling his dear Valkyrie, Gyro's trust in them is shown in the way his frame was deformed by the weapons he always carried on himself.
"Ah yes, Brando's little stunt. If the booty wasn't so attractive I would never play privateer for him." He frowns. "What does he think, that everything and everyone just follows his rules?"
He hears a sigh and the soft patter of Hot Pants' boots on the wood boards. Hot Pants appears at his side, setting the oil lamp in her hand on the rail between them.
"And in the end too, it was all for naught."
She's frowning, hesitation clear in her brown eyes. It's all too visible with the aid of the light. It worsens the giddiness in Gyro's gut.
"Just get to the damn point, woman."
"Nobleman Joestar is not willing to pay up for his son's ransom."
Gyro pursues his lips together, looking down at the deck where the rest of his men are now pulling at the ropes and maneuvering Valkyrie's rudder. "Hm." He leans over the railing, watching the men shout at each other. He drums his fingers over the railing wooden surface, the clicking noise of his thick golden rings against wood sounding like clockwork as Hot Pants waits for his answer patiently as ever.
"How unfortunate," He turns his back to his first mate with a restrained golden smile,"and here I thought we were getting a nice booty from that one. Turns out not all fathers are willing to risk everything for their sons."
Hot Pants reaches for something in the pocket of her fur coat. Gyro watches with some interest as he pulls out and unfolds the piece of paper. She looks over it once before she hands it over to Gyro who all but snatches it out of her hands.
He only manages to read until the middle of the letter before he closes his fist over it, tossing it to the side, shaking with barely contained rage. All those resources... All the good men he lost...
He bursts in laughter, turning on his heel and pressing his back against the railing so he’s no longer facing his crew, he can't let them see their Captain lose his cold composure like this. "These nobles just don't understand the concept of rock bottom, eh? They just keep on getting lower and lower. Any lower than this and they reach Hell sooner than any of us, nyoho!"
Hot Pants knits her brows together. "Lord Joestar must've been drunk… or Diego is just exaggerating as always. Perhaps we should-"
"Doesn't fucking matter. A no is a no. There are no second chances in life, HP. I told you this countless times." The stocky woman scowls at him, some of the tension leaving her broad shoulders. Just like that, their conversation changes from a captain and his subordinate to two old friends. "For a man that hates useless things, Brando sure made me lose my time and resources on such a useless fucking thing."
He knew he should never strike a bargain with that snake, no matter how much Hot Pants seems to tolerate him (which in itself, is big enough of an accomplishment that should have Gyro completely on board if it wasn’t for the fact that the man in question was Diego motherfucking Brando).
"What should we do then? Johnny insisted on reading the message first. He's inconsolable right now."
"That's not the major problem right now, HP."
He stops then, face twisting up in confusion. He turns back to look at Hot Pants, brow raised.
"Johnny?"
Hot Pants clears her throat, a balled fist over her mouth. In the light's reflection, Gyro can see how her cheekbones have the same pigmentation as her coat.
"We… We've been talking a lot. Someone had to keep him entertained after all. Before he went off and gave himself away to the rest."
Gyro rolls his eyes."That entitled brat… From the very moment, he stepped foot in my ship he has acted nothing of the sort but annoying and demanding stuff."
"He's just-"
"A waste of space and provisions. He was lucky enough I kept his presence in my ship a secret and even gave him my chambers to rest on. But that ends now! The brat has no more use to us!"
There's another pause between them. Hot Pants’ shifting between where Gyro’s gaze is looking towards to and the closed door behind them as if she feared the noble could be eavesdropping on their conversation.
" Hot Pants." Gyro calls out her attention again, trying to sound as firm as one can when talking to a friend."I've told you before, all the stuff you were taught by the priests has no meaning in this world. The strong always prevail while the weak die, this is the major lesson of the school of life."
"He’s innocent, Gyro.”
Gyro sighs at the way her voice shudders. This must've been what his father felt when Gyro came to him vouching for young Marco's life.
But this is different, Marco had been nothing but a child. Someone that bore no sins and the only thing on his hands was the wax from the boots he polished. Gyro just couldn't let his father also rob the poor boy of his childhood, just like he did with him albeit in a different way.
It's so much easier to blame his father for that; to blame him for Gyro's general lack of empathy when it comes to other people. That's the major reason why he would never put his life in the hands of a woman. But Hot Pants was not the type of woman Gyro sleeps with; petite, pretty, and loud. Under any normal circumstances, Gyro wouldn't let a woman step foot on Valkyrie much less make one his first mate, but then he had put his life in Hot Pants' hands.
He had a plan then - get to France so he could buy a ship and hire a good crew with the gold he took from the Zeppelis vault - but that damn merchant had to set him up. Gyro would’ve bled out and drowned in the pink-tainted waters caused by the severe wounds on his chest if he hadn’t ended up on Rome’s shores where his paths crossed with an odd nun. One that not only saved his life and tended to his wounds, but was also insane enough to accept his offer and accompany him to France. Gyro still doesn’t know all of her reasons, but he knows felt miserable and trapped in that place. Just as he was in his old house.
Besides, under constant disguise, Hot Pants passed out for a man just fine. She had fooled everyone around Gyro, including Lady Luck herself. Gyro's luck has never failed him once - until now, that is.
Gyro sighs, reaching back for his ponytail and pushing it over his shoulder so he can play with the tip. It's all wiry as one would expect from weeks on the sea without a proper bath. Even the stench from his crewmen seems more unbearable than usual.
"We'll make a stop. There I will decide what to do with the brat."
Hot Pants doesn't look too pleased with his answer.
"What's with that face, I won't kill him."
"You will abandon him."
"There you go again," Gyro groans, "putting words on my fucking mouth."
She still doesn't look convinced, but at least she doesn't say anything more. She doesn't need to when Gyro can still see the denial on her lips.
"I'll go and check on him. Take charge."
"Gyro."
"I won't hurt him! I just want to talk," he sighs with exasperation, pointing to his first mate, "and the little prince will hear me loud and clear this time! I'm so sick of all this bullshit. Write Diego back, tell him I send him my deepest and sincerest 'Fuck you's."
Gyro reaches for the oil lamp and walks up to the door. But just as he puts his hand over the handle, Hot Pants' hand touches his shoulder. He looks back at her, annoyed.
“What now?” He asks in English.
"He's sleeping."
Not breaking eye contact with her, Gyro brushes her hand off him. Hot Pants understands the sign of dismissal and lowers her head before leaving him be. He huffs at her retreating back before he turns back to the door, turning the handle and opening it.
This is not just a matter of his reputation, it's about his own pride.
As his first mate stated, the golden boy he had whisked away from a High-Class British Ship, is currently sleeping on his - Gyro's - bed. The boy's back is turned to the door and he's curled up under the covers, seemingly undisturbed by Gyro's entrance.
Gyro sets the oil lamp over his table where he keeps all his maps. The yellow light floods the whole room, and a warmth Gyro hadn't felt in the three days they had been sailing over the arctic waters north of America washes over his chest. Outside he can still hear the wind and the voices of his crew and the imposing voice of Hot Pants barking out instructions. The ship sways and the boards moan in protest, making the Steel Ball on top of his desk roll to the side with a soft clicking noise.
Tap, tap, tap.
Gyro raises his head to the new sound and instantly wrinkles his nose when he notices Diego’s crow tapping its beak against the glass of the small window.
His stare turns into a glare when the crow tilts its head in his direction. It quickly loses interest in him though and goes back to tapping the window. Hell's creature, Gyro mutters as he silently reaches for his window, opening it and letting the offensive bird fly back to Hot Pants like it was trained to.
Now that’s just him and the little nobleman, Gyro can finally relax. He pulls the curtains closed and starts undressing. He takes off his hat and places it over the steel ball on his table, it's then followed by his leather coat, his belt, and his boots. He folds and places them onto a neat pile near the feet of the table.
He heaves a breath, a white cloud slipping past his lips. His eyes never leave the form nestled within the covers. Ever so silently, Gyro walks over to Johnny, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and pulling it off from the inside of his breaches, letting it hang loose to his sides. He spreads palm over his chest, bringing it down along his stomach and then back up as he revels in the coldness of the gold of rings on his heated skin.
Gyro tilts his head to the side, finally spotting the small tuff of golden locks peeking out of the covers. He extends his arm over and tucks two of his fingers over the hem to tug the covers down just enough for Gyro to see the little noble's face.
Seeing the usually unruly brat this serene brings allows Gyro to take in the things he hadn't noticed before. When he first met Johnny, his lips were painted blue and his face had a thin layer of white powder, but now, his lips were the color of a mature peach and his cheeks and nose were pink from the cold. Gyro fights the urge to run his thumb across his bottom lip, pouting out slightly as he snored lightly. This close, he could also count each of his golden lashes, resting on his cheeks like butterfly wings. There are dry tear trails under them and there was still some snot on his fuzz.
Cute.
And so small too! Gyro's palm could easily curl around that thin neck and squeeze. Gyro could watch as those icy blue eyes opened, looking alarmed. Such scary pretty things that they were; eyes that didn't belong to someone this young.
Gyro could do that, and he would do that if he were a cruel man.
Despite his hatred for nobility, he doesn't wish to end this boy's life, regardless of how annoying he is. Gyro did always harbor a soft spot for tiny adorable things anyways, and Johnny had never looked as adorable as he does right now when he's destined to die. That was truly so unfair.
With a smile tugging at the corner of his lip and a sudden boldness in him, Gyro pulls the covers down further, until the boy's entire upper body was exposed to his eyes to take in too. He's still wearing the same light blue shirt he was using on the night Gyro whisked him away into his cabin. He did remember the sleeves being puffier than this, though. Maybe they deflated along with the boy's bravado. Hah, that's a good one. Gyro also remembers a cravat around his neck. That's gone but the jewelry is still there.
Johnny had protected those with tooth and nail, his fist covered the large sapphire of his necklace every time Gyro approached him as if he would steal it. Gyro isn't particularly fond of jewels, to be quite frank. Gold suits him much better. But he knows his crew is, just as he knows how they would not hesitate to tear poor Johnny into shreds just to get their dirty hands on his necklace.
A shiver runs down Gyro's frame and even he doesn't know if it's from the cold or the new image of Johnny - strong, stubborn, and uptight Johnny - all rugged up and properly dishonored that appeared on his mind.
"Mio princepe piccerillo," he whispers as he finally dares to taint the perfect image of this angel on his bed with his touch. Gentle and featherlight, the tips of his fingertips draw a flowery pattern up Johnny's arm to his cheek. Oh, he's so soft. "So pretty yet so worthless. Like fake gold. If you would let me, I would keep you just to myself. Feel you on my skin-" He caresses his cheek with the back of his fingers, careful not to press his rings to the warm skin, "-but that won't happen now, will it? You don't want me the same way I want you.."
The boat wavers violently and the wooden boards moan in protest. The items on top of the table fall to the floor. The oil lamp hits the ground with a loud 'clack' , pouring light from below and making the shadow on the wall grow larger until it towered the entire side of his cabin. When Gyro turns back to look at Johnny, he took was engulfed by the darkness.
Something warm touches his cold hand as the dark speaks quietly to him; “So you finally came to kill me.”
Gyro’s whole body stiffens and he pulls his hands back behind his back as if burned.
“HP said you wouldn’t.” A humorless chuckle. “Guess he lied. That’s not surprising. All you pirates do.”
He can’t see the kid’s face like this. He can’t see what kind of expression he's doing right now.
Not that it’ll make a difference, he thinks. Johnny has always been way too good at hiding his emotions under a mask of cold indifference. It honestly makes Gyro feel kind of jealous. A skill like that would save his ass a lot back in Naples.
“HP shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep, then.” He responds, keeping his tone leveled like he always does when striking a bargain. “I’ll talk to him later about this.”
There's a beat of silence, but just as Gyro opens his mouth to talk, Johnny is speaking, voice so eerily soft.
"I've noticed this before but now that I've talked to your crewmate it's more clearer. Your speech."
"What about it?" Gyro quirks a brow up, knowing damn well the kid was just playing nice now because his life is in Gyro's hands.
"It's good if a bit accentuated. Too good for a simple pirate. That's the voice I would expect to hear from one of the Frenchmen my father received back at the estate."
"Nyoho, close. I came from somewhere more south than that. The prideful Kingdom of Sicily.” He pauses, raising a hand to his chest and making a mock vow. "Je faisait aussi partie de la haute classe comme toi. Mais cette vie ne m'allait pas alors je suis partis."
Gyro raises his head up with a smile. He can assume the long silence that follows is given the shock the boy must be feeling right. Not so much for the uncultured pirate he so vehemently called him before.
"Ah... That doesn’t surprise me much. Even if you smell like rotten things and look like garbage you do have a certain air of… royalty.”
Well, as far as he's concerned, that sounds much like a compliment. “Nyoho, well thank y-”
“I was never that good with the languages, despite mother being french herself." Another pause and Gyro notices the nobleman's hand shift up to rest at his necklace. He seems to do that a lot when distressed. "Mon frère parlait aussi cette langue bien. Ce bracelet lui appartenait."
"Your brother? I don't remember hearing of any other Joestar heirs."
The storm rages outside but that isn't the reason why the room seems colder all of a sudden.
Gyro curses himself internaly. They were doing so well, having a civilized conversation for once! They even found something in common! But then he trailed into bad waters. The topic of a "dead brother" wasn't something Gyro - who had been taught nothing but cold detachment - could make easy conversation of.
So instead, he optes for the silence and, with as much subtlety as he can, moves to side so the light can also illuminate Johnny. In the process, he ends up inching closer to the boy, but he doesn’t seem to care much about the proximity. Johnny is simply sitting on the bed, looking down at his own hands nestled over his lap. His blue eyes are no longer burning bright with the determination he had seen in the past days they talked. They stare ahead, unseeing and defeated. The little beast has finally lost his bite, and that is crushing enough to Gyro that he can't feel accomplished enough for now standing the closest he has ever been to Johnny.
For the first time since they’ve met, Johnny Joestar looks his age - an adult but just by barely, thrust into the unforgiving world where he soon falls prey to one of the big fishes.
What is this kid's deal with someone like Diego Brando, anyway?
"What you said before," Johnny doesn't look at him as he speaks, "is it true?"
"What are you..?"
Gyro's words die on his tongue when he notices Johnny's lower lip quivering. Gyro clenches his jaws as he watches Johnny unravel slowly. His eyes squint at nothing as the light is reflected on their bright blues. As bright as the stars he hasn't seen in days, as blue as the jewels of his brother's necklace.
"I don't want to die, Captain." His voice breaks as he wheezes, bringing his hands to his face to cry into his palms.
"I don't want to kill you either..." Gyro admits, unsure what else he can say. He doesn't know whether he likes or doesn't like seeing Johnny so distressed. "But I can't just let you off either. Dead men tell no tales after all."
"I don't mind it!" Johnny turns to him, voice so desperate it doesn't sound like the Johnny Gyro is used to hear. "You said you wanted me right? I don't mind it at all! If this broken body of mine can please y-"
He doesn't get to finish. Gyro doesn't let him because as soon as he knew where the conversation was heading towards, his hand moves forward to grasp the bottom of Johnny's face. Gyro barely registers Johnny's pained cry as his rings scratch over his lips, fingers digging at the softness of his cheeks. So he really was pretending to sleep? So he really has heard everything he just said?
In that case, there's no point in hiding it anymore.
"Who the fuck do you take me for, you stupid brat!? I'm the great Gyro Zep- I have crossed the North where no other man from the South even dared go to! I fucked the fucking Queen of Naples! You really think I'll settle for this?"
Johnny stares up at him, eye-wided and freely crying now.
Gyro tries to calm himself down and slowly lets go of his grip on the boy's face. He needs to calm himself down, the kid just got left behind to die by his very own flesh and blood, of course, he’s desperate.
His hand slips down his face to rest at his neck. A thin trail of blood runs down Johnny's chin from where his ring cut his lower lip, but Johnny doesn't pay it any mind. His eyes are still on Gyro. Gyro holds his gaze as he applies pressure on his throat, just enough to make Johnny part his lips in a silent gasp. Gyro pulls Johnny closer to himself by the neck until the boy's head is tilting up enough to look at him. The fmaliar smell of blood reaches him when their lips hover over his own, untouching but close enough to feel Johnny's breath mingling with his own.
Gyro speaks softly into them. "There are only two greatest pleasures in this world; to kill a person that wants to kill you and to fuck a person that wants to fuck you. And if you, Johnny Joestar, can't give me either one of those pleasures then you really have no use for me."
He watches Johnny's eyes flutter, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He feels the boy shaking under his grip, and he looks right into his eyes.
"Are you scared, boy? " He asks, adding a mocking sweetness to his voice. “Are you scared now after you realized daddy's not coming to save you? That there’s nothing left that’s making me keep that pretty head on top of your shoulders? I know I would be."
Gyro watches him blink, long lashes fanning delicaly like the wings of a butterfly. And when the fog clears from Johnny's eyes and he stops crying, Gyro sees the fire.
Ah, there they are. The eyes that don't belong. The eyes of a killer.
Johnny's grasps Gyro's forearm with both hands, but doesn't make any moves to pry it off.
"And what if I wish to give you both of those pleasures, Captain?"
Gyro leans down, feeling Johnny hold his breath, and tastes the blood from the boy's lips. He licks a long stripe from under his chin to his plush lips. Johnny's exhales brokenly against him and he feels the corners of his mouth tug up into an ugly grin.
"Then you're above royalty, Johnny Joestar." He whispers over his trembling lips, making sure the boy can taste the lust dripping down his voice like thick syrup.
He feels the press of the boy's adam apple against his palm as he swallows and, after that, it all goes downhill.
Johnny's nails sink into the flesh of Gyro's arm at the same time Gyro opens his mouth to catch his bottom lip. He sucks on it, swiping the tip of his tongue over the light cut and tasting iron. Johnny blows hot air through his nose and Gyro pulls back so he can lean down again, this time meeting Johnny's receptive lips halfway. They kiss each other with urgency, like two starved men. Johnny lets go off his arm to grip onto Gyro's his shoulders, tilting his head so their mouths can fit perfectly together. Gyro makes a small surprised noise, momentarily lost in the way the nobleman teases him, running his tongue over the perfect row of his grills, and then plunging deep into his mouth.
That's a neat trick you have, brat. And Gyro, ever the one to charge in headfirst as soon as a challenge comes, presses his tongue right against Johnny's.
They pull back for air, and as Johnny pants, eyes closed and watery, Gyro shrugs off his shirt, letting it fall down his arms and then pluncking it out and throwing it to the side. He leans back on the bed and Johnny wastes no time following him right suit. The boy climbs on top of him, small hands pressing down on Gyro's chest for balance as they kiss with something that could resemble passion. Gyro's hands reach for the boy's waist, then his ass, then back up his sides, and then they finally come to rest back on his ass, giving it a healthy squeeze on both cheeks. Fuck, he never noticed how soft and full Johnny was down there. He wants that.
He wants to explore and conquer every part of Johnny's body as it were a new kind of sea.
Gyro pushes himself up and switches their positions so Johnny is the one laying underneath him. Like this, he regains control over the boy easily, shoving his tongue deep into the soft velvet heat of that pretty fuckable mouth.
They pull out again, gasping on each other's faces and Gyro laments how he can't see what kind of expression Johnny is doing right now because of the shadows. So he grabs Johnny by the arms and pulls him up along with him. Gyro's hand comes down to rest on the small of Johnny's back as he looks down at the boy's flustered face through half-lidded eyes, taking in his cheery red lips.
"Bello. Bello. Bello." And like a fool, Gyro leans back into them.
Gyro holds Johnny by the throat to keep him in place but that doesn't stop the little noble from retaliating. Johnny's nails trail down deep red trails down Gyro's arms, occasionally stoping to pluck at the small dark hairs of his forearms. Gyro groans into the kiss.
Everything is wet, sloppy, and rough. So unlike the delicate things Gyro spent the nights on land with. And, despite coming close to his type, Johnny is no delicate thing. He's lean and tiny, but other than his ass, thighs and face, Johnny's body held no softness. Wherever Gyro's hands trailed over his upper body, he only found the compact solidness you find in other men. Not that that's a bad thing necessarily, Gyro has fucked a lot of boys too. He's the kind of patron all the whores in a brothel know by name, and, although he doesn't particularly like the way his fingers feel in his ass, he knows where to touch and prod to make a man as soft as a woman.
"At this rate, you're gonna kill me before we can go further, principino." He pants as they pull away once more, hungry eyes feasting over every single detail presented to him, from the tear trails on his cheeks to his lips, red and swollen from the abuse.
Johnny tries to control his breathing, swallowing down the excessive saliva in a way that makes his adam’s apple press against Gyro's palm.
"I don't want to perish yet." Gyro licks his lips. "Not until I feel those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my cock."
Johnny whines, eyes slipping open, and Gyro can not resist going down on him again. He isn't usually this prone to kissing but holy shit, this brat is good.
"You've got a talented mouth I'll give ya that." He pants out between sloppy wet kisses, Johnny's tongue following after his own in a sloppy dance. "Not just for talking shit too- mhmm- I knew it from the moment I saw you. That'as the mouth of a trained harlot."
Johnny groans into his mouth and Gyro feels like something inside him just snaps.
In a quick sharp motion, he grabs Johnny by the hips with both hands, pulling him against his body as he leans back against the headboard, Johnny now sitting on his lap.
Johnny circles his arms around Gyro's neck, his hands finding the band of his ponytail and pulling it undone so he can dig his fingers into it.
"Fuck!" Gyro groans when Johnny tugs at one of his fistfuls. "Oh... Nyoho, you're gonna regret that, little prince."
He keeps one of his hands on Johnny's hip while the other moves up to the brat's hair and grasps around its curly ends. Gyro tugs Johnny's head back by his hair and he cries out. Johnny's hair is shorter, which makes grabbing at it, yanking his head back by it, a little more painful.
"Oh, you like this, huh? I can feel the way you tremble when I'm a little harder on you." He chuckles his signature laugh, pushing Johnny's head back so he can slip over the crook of his neck and lick at the skin that's visible in there. "One of those, I see." He presses a wet kiss to the small pink star on the boy's shoulder, and by Johnny's sudden jolt he can tell it's a pretty sensitive area. "What more secrets are you keeping from me, hmmm. I will find them all..."
Gyro smiles up at Johnny but the boy is still clenching his jaws as if trying to look dignified. Gyro chuckles with the slightest hint of malice to it, nibbling at the soft skin around Johnny's star. Fuck, he can taste it; the sweat and the cologne that's still lingering on his skin. And Gyro knows that even if he kept the spoiled brat confined in the cleanest space in the whole ship, it would still cling its stanch onto the noble’s skin and clothes. He was wrong, and for once, he's glad that's the predicament. Even Johnny’s hair smells almost the same, albeit with some of the mustiness that came from Gyro’s pillow.
Johnny just – has this natural smell to him. This delicious, warm smell of something made to melt in your mouth, tingling with how sweet, how rich, how ready to be harvested it is. And Gyro will harvest it all alright; he’ll find all of him and steal all of him. He will ruin the brat so good, drag him down into the lowest depths of depravity. The kind this nobleman so deeply despises. Gyro will take it and then he will give it all back to Johnny tenfold, and the boy will love every second of it.
"Fuck, ya smell so nice." He slurs into Johnny's ear as he buries his nose into the feathery locks, sniffing them. "So fucking nice."
"Nn- That's because I shower, Captain." He sighs, then pressing his lips shut, trying to hold back his moans. Cute. "Something you- ah- clearly don't understand."
Gyro smirks over his skin before he pulls Johnny's head back by the hair. Can't hold your tongue from a snarky remark now, can we? Johnny moans in complaint but doesn't let go of Gyro's hair, pulling it back. Ah- Stubborn. Gyro likes it.
"Take off your shirt, principino... Unless you want me to ruin it."
Johnny glares at him but compiles. He lets go of Gyro's head and starts working at the buttons of his shirt.
Gyro only observes appreciably, using the hand on Johnny's hip to guide his hips down along with Gyro's lazy thrusts, simulating the real thing. Gyro's so fucking hard the outline of his cock is obvious under the fabric of his breeches. On the brown material, there's also a dark stain given from his lack of underwear. Johnny seems to notice it too, as he bites his lower lip and his browns knit with worry. He looks almost hesitant, and Gyro would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed that Johnny actually didn't want this and was just playing along for the sake of his own life.
But that's a worry for another time because Johnny just finished unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a whole new canvas of milky flesh for Gyro to paint red and purple.
Gyro's breath hitches in his throat, the thought making his cock throb. Johnny heaves a breath too, eyes dark and half-lidded as he hurriedly undoes and slips off the necklace of sapphires he so vehemently protected, throwing it over the nightstand next to his bed. That simple action clears all the doubts from Gyro's mind for good.
He slips his hand out of Johnny's hip, palming and squeezing over the tent on the boy's crotch.
"You're enjoying this way too?" He gives it a harder squeeze, taking the opportunity to shove his tongue back into Johnny's pretty mouth when he parts it again to moan in that cute way of his. "Mmm, I will make you feel so good you'll come back asking for more..."
“Captain...”
“Gyro.” He says, planting one last kiss on the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “If you’re gonna play my lover for tonight then at least address me as one.”
Johnny hums, cupping Gyro's face and tracing circles over his cheeks with his thumbs.
“Gyro.”
“Yes.” He breaths out, slipping back into the crook of Johnny’s neck, now bare and exposed to him. He bites down on the little star-shaped mark, feeling Johnny stiffen in his arms. “Yes. Keep on calling me that. That’ll soon be the only thing you’ll be able to say anyway.”
“Hh- Gyro-” He grinds down against Gyro's crotch.
They both gasp at the contact.
“Merda- That’s enough,” Gyro gasps out. “Get on your knees and suck me off.”
Johnny seems a bit hesitant at that but, again, like the good actor that he is, he quickly fits into his role as Gyro’s lover and slips himself off of Gyro’s lap, gracelessly falling into the ground on his knees.
Gyro wastes no time in spreading his thighs apart so Johnny can accommodate himself between them and fuck, isn’t the little prince quite the sight like that. On his knees, hands resting over Gyro’s knees as he looks up at him with those big blue eyes. All that’s left now is for him to slip his mouth open slowly, and utter the words; Please fuck my mouth.
“I’ve never done this before,” is what comes out of his lips instead, he's looking down then, seemingly shy, “to another man, I mean. You’ll have to teach me how.”
Gyro feels something dark twist in his chest at that. He bites his lip.
“Sorry if I find that hard to believe. Pretty thing like you? Would’ve get bent over and be properly fucked back where I came from.”
Johnny's gaze hardens like steel. “What’s with these accusations? I never laid with another man in my life! I am a man of high standards! Not some depraved sea rat-”
“And yet here you stand. Kneeling for the sea rat like an obedient little pet,” Gyro gestures at him with a mocking flourish. “Truly a man of high standards! Nyoho, but you don't hate it really do you? Just a second ago you were so into it. Didn’t even take that long to break you.”
“Make no mistake, captain." Johnny turns that same hard stare back up at him, and Gyro almost creams his pants right there and then. "I didn't lie before. When the time comes, I will kill you.”
“Oh, I expect no less from you. You’re my most precious possession after all. I look forward to more surprises coming from you, Johnny Joestar, but for now, let us continue this little fantasy," he rubs his thigh, drawing Johnny's attention back to his crotch, "just for tonight. Just until the dawn comes and your destiny is sealed.”
"But what if I play the good lover for you, Gyro? Will you keep me around then? Just like you told me you would. Will you keep on bedding me until one of us eventually gets tired and slits the other's throat open?"
Gyro licks his lips. Hot Pants always warned him to stop running towards danger but how could he not? Not when it kept calling him like a sweet siren’s call. Not when it made the blood rush in his veins and feel like his very own skin is on fire. The kind that burned without actually burning. Especially not when Johnny looked at him in that matter.
"We shall see what fate has reserved for us... But for now, I'm the one with the upper hand. Hm, maybe if you let me put it in your ass I'll make my decision sooner and it'll have higher chances of being a positive one."
"Hm. Maybe on another night." Johnny smirks slightly.
"Nyoho, mean. But smart. Using my curiosity against me so I can keep you around for longer."
"I'll show you," Johnny squeezes the prominent bulge in Gyro's pants, "I am so much more than that. I will go with you anywhere on this Earth and I will survive it. I'll be the stone on your shoe for as many nights as it takes until I kill you."
Gyro places the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, pleasantly surprised with this new surge of determination. “Johnny... Oh, Johnny. You just have a way with words that makes a man mad. But be careful in how you use that sharp tongue of yours or I'll-"
"Make me walk the plank?" The damn brat raises grins as he gestures down to his legs. "Too bad for you but I don't think I can do that just yet."
"You shitty brat! Ah-" He jerks forward when Johnny squeezes his crotch again, harder than before. "Th-That's just a fucking rumor spread around by sailors. If you were to get in my way I would just tie you up and drop you in the ocean. But that's enough chit-chat! As much as I love hearing you talk I rather you put that tongue to good use. Now, stop toying with it and be a good pet. Get working on it."
Gyro half expects Johnny to snark at him again but he also knows the boy isn’t dumb. If Johnny wants to live another day as he plans to, he must play along in this little game they both made.
Johnny's hands are tiny and surprisingly agile as they undo the button of Gyro’s trousers and tug them down. Gyro places his hand on top of Johnny’s blonde head, grasping lightly at his scalp with the short tips of his nails.
A tiny gasp comes from under him, making Gyro smirk.
Ah. There it is. The common reaction of all his previous partners when they saw Gyro’s cock in all of its full glory for the first time. Based on what Johnny has said before as well as his upbringing, Gyro can guess the nobleman hasn’t seen another man’s cock this close before. And Gyro too was, for a lack of better words, big – big enough to make most whores complain if he wasn't careful enough. There's also the fat gold ring pushed through the head of his cock, making it all the more intimidating.
"What can I saw, I look pretty damn good in gold." He wiggles the fingers of his free hand. The golden rings in his fingers catch the light and make them gleam just as brightly. "All of them are made of pure gold too," he lowers his voice as he looks down at the piercing on his cock, "do you like them?"
"Holy shit…" Johnny's voice wavers, something between wonder and shock.
"That's most certainly not something I expected coming from such a man of high standards' mouth, nyoho."
“...Did it hurt?”
“As much as you would expect." He leans over, his long hair falling down his head like a curtain. "It's called a Prince Albert. Nyoho, fitting, don't you think? A prince for a prince. Let’s make them kiss!"
Gyro laughs out loud at his joke.
Johnny's glare doesn't quite have the same sharp intensity when his cheeks are flushed a pink as intense as Hot Pants' hair.
"Now don’t look at me like that, pet. I need you to properly warm up this prince right here before I put it inside you. Unlike women, men don't get wet so if I shove it in dry I’ll tear you in half."
Johnny’s glare doesn’t waver, though some of the pink leave his cheeks.
“Are you fucking deaf or what? Who said I would let you shove it in like I’m some kind of maid, you filthy pirate?”
Ah, fuck. It was still worth a shoot, though.
“Such big words,” Gyro rolls his eyes and reaches down to wrap a hand around his hard length, giving it a few strokes right in front of Johnny's flustered face, “coming from the one that’s about to suck cock for his life.”
He smirks at the way Johnny’s eyes follow his movements.
“You must be used to this sight, eh, principino?” He flickers his wrist, whipping the leaking head against Johnny’s lower lip. The boy gasps at the action, his red tongue poking out to lick at where his piercing came out of his slit. Gyro chuckles at the way Johnny’s face twists up at the foreign taste. “How does it feel? Being the one on your knees for once? And for a filthy pirate too, no less.”
Johnny still refuses to answer his questions so Gyro smacks his cock over Johnny’s mouth and cheeks. Johnny glares at him and finally raises his hand to grasp his shaft.
“Yes.” Gyro hisses. “That's more like it. Now stroke it like I did before, nice and slowly.”
Johnny’s cheeks dust pink and he nods, hesitantly sliding his hand up and down Gyro's cock.
Gyro sighs and reaches his arms behind himself, head thrown back as he enjoys the moment. He can tell Johnny is purposefully avoiding his piercing but he's not too concerned about him. He'll start off gentle with him. For now, he only focuses on the feeling of Johnny's hands on his cock. He had noticed it before, the way the noble's hands are surprisingly rough.
"That's it, that’s a good pet. Use your mouth, now."
Johnny's lids slip closed, golden lashes resting over his pink-dusted cheeks. He stops his movements and parts his mouth. The blush on his cheeks is spreading down to his neck and freckled shoulders. The boy looks ethereal bathed in the golden light.
Gyro grumbles, growing impatient. He brings Johnny's head closer until his lips are touching the golden ring.
"C'mon, you had girls do this to you, right? Use your tongue."
Johnny's blonde and perfectly trimmed eyebrows knit together in annoyance but he complies at that too. Such a good pet.
A shuddering gasp escapes his lips as that same velvet heat closes around the drooling head of his cock. It's a short-lived pleasure though because soon enough Johnny is pulling his head back against Gyro's hand with an unpleased expression.
"Nyoho, too much for you? Don't tell me now that mouth really is just all talk."
Johnny's expression relaxes slightly - but the frown is still there, that seems to be permanent on him - and takes a deep breath before leaning down again and giving the head another single tentative lick. His head jerks back again with the same tight expression.
Gyro's deeply amused. "The taste will stay the same. Sorry to disappoint your complex palate, principino."
Johnny's eyes snap open, glaring up at him. "I said I never did this bef-"
"Here let me give you a hand." Gyro presses his fingers down on Johnny's tongue.
The boy's eyes widen and tears well up in his eyes by reflex once Gyro presses his fingers down enough to force his mouth open. Johnny tries to move away from them but Gyro's grip on his hair is firm.
"Shhh, I said I would teach you right?" He coos, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock head is positioned over Johnny's lower lip. Blue eyes stare down at his girth with what looks like fear. Gyro caresses thumb his cheek. "Relax will you? I promise I won't choke you too badly."
Johnny makes a weak noise in protest but Gyro ignores him and shoves the head inside, rolling his hips so he's rubbing it over Johnny's tongue and the inside of his cheeks. Johnny's tears roll down his cheeks as he glares up at Gyro through his lashes.
"Merda, if you keep looking at me like that I won't last too long." He moans. "Promise me you'll be good and won't bite me off. Then I will take off my fingers and let you do this at your own pace. If you’re good enough then I'll suck you off too." He smirks, nudging the tent between Johnny's thighs with the tip of his barefoot, making the boy groan around his cock head.
Gyro bites the inside of his cheek with another pleasured groan. It's only then Johnny seems to remember the hands he still has wrapped around the base of Gyro's cock. He squeezes at the base hard to get Gyro's attention. When his eyes are back on him with barely contained annoyance, Johnny lets go and slips a hand down to cup at his balls.
An offer of peace. Gyro smirks; whenever it came to Johnny Joestar every single one of their interactions has been a constant show of dominance. It was like a fight, a whole new level of conflict that always ended up in an even tie. Right now though, and for the first time in three days, there's a winner.
"Good boy." Gyro hums.
Pleased with Johnny's reaction, Gyro slips his fingers off his mouth.
"Just like that," he urges on, watching Johnny let his cock slowly slip inside until Gyro's piercing is touching the roof of his mouth. "Careful with your teeth."
Johnny closes his eyes again as he tries to slip his lips under his teeth and hollow his cheeks. Gyro definitely had better but the sight of this pristine noble all rugged up and struggling to fit another man's cock in his mouth like he needs it to live is all he really needs to make him weak on the knees.
Johnny's hands stroke, grope and tug at what he can't fit in his mouth as his tongue starts lapping over the slit of Gyro's cock and along the curve on his piercing. Gyro clenches his teeth, blowing hot air through them. God, this still wasn't near enough! He wants more!
With the hand he has fisted on Johnny's scalp, Gyro forces the boy to take in more of his length, and making him choke and cry harder.
"Hush," Gyro coos despite the deep arousal stirring inside him at the sight of Johnny openly sobbing around his cock. He brushes his thumb under the boy's eye to wipe off the new tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks, "you're doing so well, mio princepe piccerillo. You're taking me so well. Bello. If you can take it all in I'm sucking yours right back."
Gyro's mouth hangs open, making sure Johnny hears every single noise he can slip out of him. Let that silent praise, that implicit motivation further push on his drive and make him swallow Gyro whole.
That's the one thing he can appreciate about the damn brat; his determination and constant desire to prove himself.
"Mio bello princepe. My lovely little pet. All mine to please… All mine…"
Johnny's trembling so prettily now. He's predictively eating up all the sugar-coated filth being fed to him, eager little thing he is. He may act all cocky and bratty but Gyro knows that deep down he's as depraved as Gyro himself.
"God, look at you right now." He gasps. Johnny's gotten all sloppy, excessive saliva running down his chin as he makes the most obscene noises each time he hollows his cheeks to suck him in. "I'm not even pulling your hair anymore! You're so depraved, so desperate for my cock you’re even fucking your own throat on it! So much for being a man of standards that would never bend his will to a nasty rat like me, huh?"
Johnny's whine is all Gyro gets as a response.
Gyro then, without warning, tightens his grip on Johnny's hair and pushes his head all the way down until his nose is nestled on the thick mound of dark hair at the base of his cock. Gyro's muscles spasm and he moans freely as he starts fucking Johnny's throat, holding the boy's head between both hands as he bobs up and down in tantrum with his thrusts.
He hisses through his clenched teeth when he feels himself getting close. He gives Johnny's head one last sharp tug, sliding him off his cock and holding him back by the hair as he jerks off in front of it.
Johnny's eyes are glazed over as he slips his tongue out of his mouth, missing the weight of Gyro's girth. Gyro takes in all and cums all over the boy's face and hair. The cocky noble with the pretty face, all ruined and covered in his own saliva, snot, and tears and the sum from his enemy.
"I'm not done with you just yet." Gyro whispers, trying to regain his breath. Holy shit he is usually never this spent after the first round. "I did give you my word I would get you off too."
Seeing Johnny won't move on his own anytime soon, he slips his hands under Johnny's armpits and pushes him up with some difficulty. Gyro's not this weak normally, it's just that most of his energy seems to have been drained out (or rather, sucked off) his body.
Gyro sits back against the headboard with Johnny pressed against his chest.
"I'm gonna take your pants off now." He whispers against the sweaty skin of his neck and starts making quick work out of Johnny's tight black pants. The boy trashes weakly against his arms, whining low in his throat when Gyro presses the heel of his hand on the prominent bulge. "Shhh, pet, I'll take care of you know." He presses a kiss against his neck. "I gave you my word I would."
"Gyro…"
Gyro kisses his neck again.
"That's it, dear. Keep calling me by my name."
"Gyro."
The pirate turns his face around, finding no calms as he gives a single peck against Johnny's abused lips, tasting himself in the process. And at that moment, for a short second, Gyro feels a strange... warmth spread over his chest.
It feels really good. "You made me feel so good, mio piccolo principe. Let me retrieve you the favor."
Because of their size difference, Gyro has to remain seated, while Johnny lays on top of him, upside-down. This way both of their crotches are over the other's face.
Gyro feasts his eyes on the sight of Johnny's cock. It's not as big as Gyro's (obviously) but it's average size, skinny and uncircumcised. It's a pretty cock, Gyro thinks, fitting of Johnny. But the real looker is Johnny's ass; plump and ripe like a juicy peach hanging down the branches of a tree with how heavy, how nice it is. It's a wonder how Gyro missed such a huge detail on the Joestar brat but here it is now, standing in front of him and begging to be eaten up. Gyro never thought he would say such a thing, but Johnny also has the prettiest hole he has ever seen in a person. Makes Gyro wonder for a moment if all of those young noblemen apply this much care and hygiene to all of them.
"You have a great ass, has anyone told you that?"
It's a real shame he won't get to properly use this hole too. At least not tonight. Gyro brushes it off for now, he already did make up his decision anyway. There will be more nights to come, and in one of those nights, he'll deflower Johnny.
Gyro clasps both cheeks in his hands and spreads them apart to give him better access. He leans over and licks a long wet strip from the crook of his balls to the small pink entrance. Johnny weakly gasps beneath him. Gyro hums and squeezes his cheeks, he can feel Johnny's fingers on his cock, stroking until it engorges in his hands and he can put it back in his mouth. Gyro rolls his hips at the unexpected sensation and, as a reward, he slips his tongue past the boy's rear.
“G-Gyro- ” the noble stops sucking on his cock and throws him a mortified look over his shoulder. “Not there- ”
"Hush, baby. I said I wouldn’t fuck your ass. Just let me do just this instead, I promise it’ll feel so, so good.”
“But that’s dirty!”
“Hm. That I am alright.” Gyro smirks lazily down at the shocked look in the boy’s eyes.
He grasps Johnny's dick in his hand, pumping it in tantrum with the flickers of his tongue, slipping in and out of Johnny. Johnny doesn't seem to feel too much of it though, so Gyro decides to ignore that for now and instead focus on something he knows Johnny can feel better. He guides Johnny's cock towards his mouth and relaxes his throat before deepthroating it with ease.
He feels the bite of nails on his thighs, a loud mewl reaching his ears.
Gyro moans around the girth of Johnny’s cock, moving his hands up and down his thighs and ass, massaging the skin as he began bobbing his head at a steady pace. Johnny squirms weakly, his upper body trembling like a leaf as Gyro pulls his cock out of his mouth with a wet pop so he could suck on the skin of Johnny’s balls, fitting them into his mouth and swirling his tongue over them. Johnny simply pants in response. Another non-feeling area, huh?
Gyro spreads one of Johnny’s cheeks apart with his hand while he sucks on the fingers of the other, eyes set on Johnny's twitching hole. Well, he said he wouldn't be putting his cock in his ass, didn't say anything about fingers.
While he's sucking on his fingers, Johnny’s mouth finds Gyro’s cock once again, holding it up as he licks wet stripes over his length and then slips it into his mouth halfway, moaning around in a way he knows Gyro loves. Whatever he can't fit into his mouth, he strokes with his hand, slow and leisurely. It's torturous, and Gyro plans on having his payback soon enough.
He pulls his fingers when he deems them wet enough and guides one digit to Johnny's entrance, slipping it in slowly. The slide is easy thanks to both the wetness and the limited movement of Johnny's muscles in that zone. When he's knuckle-deep inside Johnny and his ring presses over the boy's sensitive rim, Johnny twitches. Gyro smiles, playing with his cock to distract him while he begins curling his finger inside him, looking for that particular spot-
"Ha-aahh?!"
Gyro smirks. Found it.
Without giving Johnny so much of an explanation, Gyro begins rubbing against Johnny's prostrate with intercity, making sure to scratch the sensitive bundle of nerves with his nail. Unstopping. Unrelenting.
Johnny's screaming then, completely ignoring Gyro's still hard cock as he fists the sheets.
"Wha- Wha- What are you-?"
"Paying you back the favor."
"It's too much- Whatever it is- t-too much!"
Gyro responds to Johnny's by adding a second finger and beginning to rub them both on the same spot at the same time he takes Johnny's cock back into his mouth, bobbing his head with equal vigor.
"G-Gyrooo-! I- I caaaan't! I'm gonna-!"
Johnny bites the fabric of the sheets, screaming into them as his body shakes and he cums down Gyro's throat. Gyro shocks, struggling to swallow it all while Johnny simply goes limp, resting his entire weight over Gyro's body.
“Already,” He tsks, pulling away to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “That wasn't so bad, I guess. But you still need proper training if you wish to be my bed-warmer.”
Johnny doesn't respond, presumably too tired to do so. Gyro tsks again, throwing Johnny off of him so he can take care of his problem alone. Once he's done, he wipes his hands and thighs with Johnny's shirt and throws it back on the floor. He looks to the side to find Johnny already sleeping. Gyro tilts his head, taking in Johnny’s naked form; all the marks spread across his skin, the puffiness of his lips, the sharp lines and the soft curves of his body. He takes it all one last time before he puts the light out and slips into his bed, curling around the smaller body, making sure it’s completely trapped within the hard lock of his bulky arms.
He buries his head into the crook of his neck and takes in Johnny’s smell - still the same rich fragrance, barely but it’s still, buried under the smell of sex. Gyro watches Johnny sleep for a while, enjoying the rare moment of peace he's sharing with the little noble to absorb every single thing for the last time.
He hates to admit it, but Johnny he has managed to capture his pure and unbiased attention. The first person to do so, and it so happens to be his enemy.
There was no longer any money involved in their little makeshift “relationship”. The only thing that’s keeping Johnny alive is his determination to live on no matter what, even if all his family and riches had left him vulnerable at the whim of one of the most dangerous men in the whole seven seas.
Gyro can only affirm it’s fitting; only an equally dangerous man could find a place alongside him.
Whatever Brando’s deal was with this kid that made him take the bold decision of contacting Gyro to get rid of him, Gyro thinks he understands it now. And he is eternally grateful to the snake for this wonderful gift. Precious than any amount of money he could give.