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Johnny was walking down a long, dark corridor. The only light came from the dim, flickering lamps that lined the walls and cast faint red light on the deep mahogany doors beside them. Each door was the same, they were all Nicholas’ bedroom door. The hallway never seemed to end, no matter how far Johnny walked. Johnny hadn’t been allowed to go into Nick’s room since he died, but he really wanted to leave the hallway. He wished there was a door that led somewhere else.
In answer to his silent plea, a door came into sight that was different from the rest. This one was white and nondescript. Relieved, Johnny opened it and stepped into the room beyond it. Looking around, he realized it was less of a room and more of a nauseating, swirling mass of colors and shapes. He thought of leaving but the door was gone. A figure emerged from the ever-shifting psychedelic mass before him. Johnny squinted to see who it was. Nicholas.
It was only then that Johnny realized he must be dreaming. Nicholas had been dead for years. If this is a dream, I could talk to him!
“Ni—“ His brother was nowhere to be found.
Well, it’s my dream. Maybe I can bring him back.
Johnny tried his best to focus, calling Nicholas’ face to mind in an attempt to make him appear again. Nothing happened. Maybe if he thought of specific memories of Nicholas, he would come back. He focused on a memory of an autumn day when they had gone outside to play with the leaves on the ground under the pretense of doing yard work.
After what felt like hours trying to call Nick back, he decided to try making someone else appear, but who? What was something he always wanted to do but couldn’t in real life?
Sex.
Sex with boys, specifically. He was sure he would never have the chance in the real world, not with his father breathing down his neck constantly.
There was one other thing he’d love to do but could never get away with. He would like to punch Diego Brando until he bled. That sounded wonderful. Yes, I’ll go with that one.
He focused again, all thoughts of his dead brother forgotten, calling upon years of pent up anger and hatred. A figure emerged from the swirling mass. It was Diego, it had worked. Johnny smirked and readied his fists. Though he didn’t realize it, he had forgotten that he was dreaming.
“Joekid?”
“Hello, Dio.”
“What is this place?”
Johnny looked around and shrugged, not really caring. All he cared about was beating Diego to a pulp.
“Don’t know, does it matter? C’mere, Dio, I got something to show you.”
Diego approached him.
“Closer.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re about to do,” he said, but came closer anyway.
They were face to face, barely a foot apart.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so damn long, Diego.”
“Me too, Jojo.” Diego smiled crookedly.
“Wh—“
Johnny was cut off when Diego leaned forward and kissed him right on the mouth. He pulled back in shock and delivered the punch he had been preparing. Diego, not expecting to be hit, stumbled and fell to the white floor.
“WHAT THE FUCK, DIO?”
“I could say the same to you, Joestar,” he spat. “What the fuck was that for?”
“You kissed me!”
“Is that not what you wanted? Were you not insinuating that?”
“No! I was talking about punching you!”
“I could’ve sworn I saw lust in your eyes…” Diego grumbled as he got to his feet.”
“Bloodlust, maybe. I’m gonna beat you ‘til you cry.”
“Like hell you will.”
“Try me.”
“I’d rather not…” Diego had regained his composure and sounded almost bored, all traces of cockney gone from his voice. “We fight all the time, Jojo. Wouldn’t you like a taste of the other side of me? The side you never see…”
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“I want you to fuck me.” Diego had leaned in close to Johnny’s face again. His voice was low and smooth. Johnny swallowed nervously and broke eye contact.
Diego was attractive, there was no denying that, but he was also Johnny’s arch rival and sworn enemy. Diego had taken Johnny’s hands in his own, probably to keep Johnny from punching him again, but maybe it was a gesture of affection. Johnny was curious, tempted. Despite denying it to himself vehemently, he had been interested in boys lately. While he really wanted to kill this particular boy, he was offering and they were alone.
Fuck it.
He leapt at Diego, knocking him to the ground a second time, but this time he fell with him, pinning him against the floor with his body. Their hands were still clasped and Johnny pinned them above Diego’s head as he leaned down to kiss him again.
There was nothing tender about the kiss, but it was far from emotionless. Johnny did his best to show Diego exactly how much he hated him through bites and tongue. It was messy, but Diego matched his energy eagerly.
Johnny touched Diego with hunger and greed. He let his hands touch every inch of his body that they could, clawing and groping and pulling at clothes, which fell away so easily. For once, he had power over Diego Brando. Diego was naked beneath him. Pale, smooth skin and firm muscle bending at his fingertips. The sight of the flat planes of Diego’s chest and the feeling of his sharp hip bones bare against his hands sent waves of warm arousal radiating from his stomach and out to the very tips of his fingers and toes and the very top of his scalp.
He kissed Diego again, grinding his still-clothed hips down against Diego’s bare skin and a small noise that could have been surprise slipped from Diego’s throat. Diego’s hands moved to Johnny’s fly and Johnny pulled his shirt off as Diego slid his pants down and away with surprising ease.
It felt perfect. Their bodies fit together like they’d been hewn from one rock, cleft down the middle. Diego was a beautiful, panting mess beneath him and Johnny wanted to tear him to shreds.
Preparation and caution were forgotten, unnecessary. Johnny slipped into Diego easily, too easily, like a hand into a glove. Johnny folded Diego’s knees up against his chest and thrusted into him deeply. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming, Johnny’s whole body felt like it was buzzing. Diego’s face was a mess of emotion beneath Johnny. The small sounds Diego made grew louder and morphed into a constant chant of “Jojo, Jojo, Johnny…”
The sound of his name on Diego’s lips sent his mind reeling and he let go of the last bit of restraint he’d been clinging to. They fucked with abandon, Johnny needed to be closer, deeper. The bliss was intoxicating.
They could have been going for three hours, five minutes, or two weeks. Eventually, Johnny felt close and he leaned down to bury his face in Diego’s neck and bit down. They came together in perfect unison, a cry escaping Diego’s lips. The orgasm was like none Johnny had ever experienced. He felt like his very soul had been submerged in a bubbling vat of pure bliss. It was as if his body had merged with Diego’s.
The climax seemed to last forever, but it was over too soon. They curled up together afterward, not speaking. Johnny pressed a soft kiss against Diego’s forehead.
Diego woke up suddenly. Jesus Christ. He rubbed his eyes. Another damn dream about Jojo. This one had felt more real than the ones he’d had in the past, and he’d never been punched before, but it was so much better than ever before.
The dreams continued for several months. Johnny would find himself in the warped, swirling room and called Diego to him. For several weeks, Johnny tried to call Nicholas back, but he never could. It was as if Nick had just wanted to bring Johnny to the room before he left for good. Eventually, he gave up on finding his brother.
Diego always appeared when called and Johnny always forgot he was dreaming as soon as his figure emerged from the foggy blur. They always fucked wildly, better than any real sex could be.
In his waking hours, Johnny was determined to beat Diego. They were racing against each other frequently since Johnny was staying in England. He never did win and he took out his frustration in shouting matches while awake and beautiful, violent sex while asleep.
Eventually, Johnny moved back to the states to try for the triple crown. Diego stayed in England and Johnny couldn’t seem to call him in his dreams. He figured that since he wasn’t seeing Diego in person, he wasn’t on his mind as strongly as he had been before. Eventually, Johnny stopped visiting the room.
Diego spent a few weeks in the states for a race and a few parties almost a year after Johnny moved back to Kentucky. Johnny found himself thinking about Diego again, and the night after he lost to Diego yet again he found himself in that room of shifting colors and shapes. He called out for Diego, and for the first time in months he appeared before him.
“Miss me?”
“Only in your dreams, Dio.”
“I’ve missed you, Jojo.” His words sent a chill down Johnny’s spine. “I’ve missed your tight ass and your desperate begging.”
“I don’t beg.” Johnny pouted.
“You do and you will soon.”
He was right, soon after, or maybe hours later, Johnny was writhing beneath him. His body ached and the pleas spilled from his lips.
“Dio… I need… fuck, ah, I need your cock. Split me in half, stop my heart when I come.”
Diego smiled.
“Good boy.”
Diego went back home and the dreams stopped again.
It was several months later and, despite having been kicked out of his father’s house, Johnny was practically drowning in money and women. This one girl had been a particularly good lay, going for three rounds and actually enjoying anal. Johnny rarely fucked a girl twice but this one was good enough that he made an exception. Good enough that he reluctantly went along when she insisted on dragging him to a play before going back to Johnny’s place. He told himself the sex would be worth the annoyance. They rounded the corner hand-in-hand and the theatre came into view.
Hell no, the sex isn’t worth waiting in this line. He tried to convince the girl to leave.
“Let’s come back some other time,” he said, knowing full well he’d pretend he didn’t recognize this girl the next time he saw her.
“Whaaaaat? But I wanna see it! I wanna see it now!” She was intractable.
They cut the line, paying off the security to take away the idiot who told them to go to the back of the line. Finally, the doors were about to open and Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. It would be boring but at least he’d get to sit down. He was getting tired of standing.
Someone grabbed him from behind. It was the same idiot from earlier. Johnny turned to punch the bugger when he noticed he was holding a gun. A smoking gun.
“What the hell did you do?!”
Johnny collapsed.
Several more months passed and Johnny resigned himself to life without legs. He hated how quickly he became accustomed to his new lifestyle, but was glad when he was finally able to live independently.
As if to taunt him, Diego came to the states again and won every race Johnny had planned to win. Rage built up inside him. Those trophies should have been Johnny’s.
The dreams came back, of course they did. In the mornings that followed the dreams Johnny always cursed himself for succumbing to that asshole, even if it was only in his head. Why did he still care? It was a stupid teenage crush, no, it was a fixation. “Crush” implied feelings.
Though he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, he found the dreams freeing. His legs worked, his dick worked, his body was as sculpted as before. They fucked like nothing had changed and afterward Diego would whisper to him, calling him beautiful and admitting that he missed their rivalry. They were just dreams, but Johnny woke up with a smile on his face, pretending that Diego really did miss him.
Diego went back home and the dreams stopped again.
~
Diego was pissed. That man with the stupid hat had made him fall behind.
What happened happened, focus on the present.
Diego was the best Jockey in the world, he could still win even with this setback. He wove his way through the throng of mediocrity with the precision of a surgeon. Soon, he was approaching the frontrunners. He selected the star-spangled ass at the front of the pack to be his shield.
Suddenly, the Appaloosa it rode sank down slightly before picking up speed, kicking rocks behind him in the process. Diego flinched as rocks hit his face and the rider in front of him broke away from the group to approach the two horses at the front.
Who the fuck was he? He rides like a professional but his posture is… strange. He didn’t have time to dwell on this and resolved to win with the power of his horse’s legs alone. His tricks wouldn’t work on the frontrunners.
“Bloody country fucks!” Diego swore under his breath, not bothering to conceal the rage on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come in third. Fuming to himself, he paced back and forth. He would kill them, he would—
“Gyro Zeppeli has been lowered 20 places as a penalty,” the booming voice announced. “That means Sandman is now first! Second is Diego Brando, third is Pocoloco, fourth is Mountain Tim, and fifth is… Johnny Joestar? That’s a name we haven’t seen in a long time!”
Diego froze. That couldn’t be. The starry ass belonged to Joestar? Diego thought he would have been able to identify Johnny’s ass, but he’d heard that Johnny had been paralyzed. He supposed that two years of muscular atrophy would change an ass. More importantly, how was he riding? The strange posture made sense now. Impressive, Joekid. He rode better than most of the riders who had use of their legs. Diego knew Johnny’s talent and skill well, though. This was well within his capabilities.The only real surprise was Johnny’s presence.
At least there was free champagne. The shame of second place was bearable if he had something to drink. He had just started walking toward the table when the corks shot out of every bottle. Great. Diego scanned the crowd with a scowl. Nearby, Johnny was talking to that damned Zeppeli man with a look of awe on his face. No, Diego would not read into that nor would he care what Johnny was doing when they weren’t racing.
Johnny knew Diego would be there, he would never pass up that opportunity, but Johnny hadn’t been expecting to actually participate in the race. He hadn’t prepared himself to be in close proximity to Diego. He desperately needed sleep, but he was afraid. He knew what happened in his sleep when Diego was around, when he was on his mind. He normally wouldn’t have cared so much, but Gyro had invited himself to stay in Johnny’s room at the inn, since the first 10 places had been provided with free rooms and Gyro had been “unjustly” stripped of that luxury.
There was one bed, and Gyro was already asleep beside him. Johnny considered getting out of bed to sleep on the floor but he knew that getting out of bed was a loud ordeal without use of his legs, and the blankets would probably get pulled away from Gyro. He might wake up, and Johnny didn’t want to come up with some excuse as to why he had chosen to sleep on the floor.
Eventually, he said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t say anything weird if he dreamed, and allowed himself to slip into sleep.
“I’m ridin’ again, Dio.”
They never had very much time to speak post-coitus, but Johnny found comfort in it regardless.
“I saw,” Diego replied, smiling against Johnny’s neck.
The dream returned the next night and the night after that. It didn’t really affect Johnny’s waking life, as long as he didn’t think too hard about it, so he didn’t fight it.
Johnny had lost track of the time. It could have been a few days or a few weeks since the race’s start and the exhaustion from the fights they’d had left him with little time to think things over.
The sex with Diego that night was wonderful as ever. He’d let Johnny fuck him from behind and Johnny loved positions that he used his legs for.
“I’ve got this new ability.” Johnny whispered as Diego held him afterwards. “It sounds crazy, but I can spin my fingernails and shoot them like bullets.”
“That does sound crazy.” Diego chuckled.
~
Diego was happily eating rocks when he caught a whiff of coffee coming from behind him. He whipped his head around to find the source of the smell and found himself staring right into Johnny Joestar’s wide eyes. The enticing aroma came from somewhere in the room behind Johnny.
He let himself into the building and struck up a chat with Johnny, who seemed shocked and appalled by his mere presence. It was a stark contrast with how caring and intimate Johnny had been in his dreams the past several nights, but Diego found it hard to care. He felt incredible. His senses were heightened and with each passing second he felt exponentially stronger, taller even.
Finally, he caught sight of the coffee as Johnny picked it up and he snatched it as he dashed to the other side of the room. He threw his head all the way back as he drank. The coffee tasted wonderful, though it dribbled annoyingly from that pesky cheek wound from earlier.
He heard the door open and some voices shouting, but he was so overcome by this feeling of incredible power that he didn’t really listen to it. When he turned around, Gyro Zeppeli was standing in the doorway. The bastard kept Johnny all to himself, so Diego did the logical thing and kicked him out the door and off the cliff.
Except, Diego hadn’t kicked. His arms and legs had stayed where they were but Gyro was sent flying all the same. He struggled to make sense of what had happened. Some part of his body had definitely connected with Gyro… but the thought faded. In fact, all concrete thought faded away, leaving behind only concepts and urges. He looked around and spotted Johnny. He definitely felt a strong urge to approach him and touch him, but he no longer understood why. There was also an overwhelming urge to maim, so he figured it was just that.
While Johnny was still looking out the door after Gyro, Diego pounced. He bared his teeth and claws, readying them to tear Johnny’s flesh from his bones.
“USHYAAAAA!”
“Tusk!”
Three bullets shot from Johnny’s fingertips and through Diego’s face. It stung badly but Diego barely noticed it and continued his pursuit. Somewhere, deep down, there was a voice wondering why the concept of Johnny shooting fingernail bullets felt so familiar.
~
The fight was over, but Diego had something on his mind.
How did I dream that Johnny told me about his nail bullet ability before I knew it existed? How could I have known?
After thinking for a long time, he concluded that this could only be some form of supernatural power. Not long ago he would have scoffed at the notion, but now that he knew about stands and the holy corpse, he was much more willing to believe than before.
Diego followed Johnny and Gyro from a safe distance, doing what he could to go unnoticed.
Johnny and Gyro set up camp early that day so that Gyro could go hunting for food while there was still some daylight. This would probably be Diego’s only chance to talk to Johnny alone for a while. He approached Johnny carefully.
“Dio!” Johnny pointed a finger right between Diego’s eyes.
Diego held his hands up to show Johnny he meant no harm.
“Relax, Jojo, I just want to talk.” He sat down beside Johnny. “I came to a rather shocking realization after the fight yesterday. Well, it’s more of a theory, I‘m only here because I want proof.”
“What’re you talking ‘bout?”
Diego took a breath to steady himself,
“Have I ever appeared to you in a dream, Jojo?”
Johnny said nothing but his eyes betrayed him. They glinted with shock and embarrassment.
“The fu—“
“Listen to me, Johnny.” He grabbed Johnny’s wrist. “The night before our fight you dreamt that you told me about your new ability, am I correct?”
Johnny nodded slowly, eyes wide.
“The night before that you told me a story about your brother and I told you about my mother.”
“How do you…”
“I suspect that we’re linked somehow, it’s some supernatural power that has us bound to one another. These dreams, you’ve had them since that time you spent several months in England, right?”
Johnny just nodded.
“Did you ever wonder why the dreams only came when you and I were in the same country? It’s because of the time zones. When we’re each in our home countries we never fall asleep at the same time.”
“You mean that whole time it’s really been you?”
Diego nodded.
“But you were so nice to me!” Johnny’s confusion was quickly becoming rage. “You loved me in my dreams but you treated me like shit in real life!”
“I was embarrassed that I liked you so much, Johnny. I thought I was just having these dreams about you all the time, I didn’t know you were too. I thought you’d hate me more if I tried to treat you like I did in my dreams.”
“What does that mean about us, then?” The anger was gone from Johnny’s voice, but his glare only burned stronger.
“I’m not sure, Johnny. I love you in my dreams and it turns out the you in my dreams is the real you, so… I don’t know, Johnny.”
Johnny nodded in understanding.
“I don’t know either, Dio.”
They held eye contact for a minute, unsure what to do next but getting gradually closer together. When they kissed, it felt somehow familiar and completely new at the same time. There were mistakes. Sometimes the alignment was wrong, sometimes saliva would escape the corner of a mouth, sometimes teeth would nip when it wasn’t intended. They fumbled with their clothes, which didn’t fall away like petals from a flower the way they did in dreams. Diego pushed Johnny and he fell backwards onto the ground faster than expected. They landed clumsily, narrowly avoiding knocking their heads together. When Diego shifted his weight, Johnny’s back dug into the packed dirt and the pressure made his shoulder blades ache.
Diego pulled back onto his hands and knees to look at Johnny beneath him. He was naked, his skin was flushed, his hair was a mess, his dick was… soft.
“You can’t…?”
“Can’t feel anything below my waist.”
Diego felt like all the air had been let out of him. Johnny couldn’t feel him.
“I’m sorry Jo—”
“Do it anyway. I can watch you and I’ll show you what does make me feel good.”
Diego nodded. He had wanted to fuck Johnny since before the dreams had even started. There was no way he’d pass up the chance now that Johnny was under him, asking for it with desperation in his voice.
This part only had to feel good to Diego, so he figured that saliva would suffice. He shoved two fingers into Johnny’s mouth without warning. Johnny was startled but understood what Diego wanted him to do. Using his tongue, he coated the fingers with as much saliva as he could. When Diego pulled his hand back, he spat into his palm for good measure before spreading the saliva around Johnny’s entrance.
He pushed in the first finger slowly and used it to loosen the surprisingly tense muscles a little before he added a second. It was hard to tell how much was enough since Johnny couldn’t feel it and couldn’t say if it felt bad at all. After a few strange, silent minutes, Diego decided that he’d loosened Johnny up enough. Diego spat into his palm again and spread the saliva over his cock as well as he could before lining himself up with Johnny.
Much to Diego’s disappointment, it felt the same way anal always did in real life, nothing like the heavenly bliss from their dreams. Johnny’s inability to feel or react made it somewhat unsatisfying. Not that it felt bad, Diego felt great. He began to thrust harder, shoving Johnny into the ground with each thrust in a way that could not be comfortable at all on his upper back.
Diego watched as Johnny licked his own finger before moving it in gentle circles on his nipple.
“I’ve had two years to figure out what parts of my body feel the best.”
Diego was a little startled when Johnny spoke. In dreams, they only ever spoke before and after, never during.
“Oh… May I?”
“Yeah, please.”
Diego hunched over to put his mouth on Johnny’s other nipple. He had never done this for a man, so he hoped it worked the same as it did with women. Momentarily sacrificing the rhythm of his hips, Diego tried licking, sucking, biting, kissing. Johnny grunted lightly a few times, but otherwise didn’t react very much. Disappointed, Diego straightened his back and moved his mouth up to Johnny’s neck. He bit down and picked his thrusts back up to a steady pace, deciding to massage Johnny’s nipple with his fingers instead.
Finally, Johnny gave a light whimper and Diego took that as a cue to bite down harder. Johnny gasped at the unexpected pain and Diego groaned at the sound. He was closer than he would have liked to be, but he had gone quite a while without sex while preparing for the race. He focused on thrusting deeper and faster as he felt his orgasm build. He panted against Johnny’s skin.
“Gonna come…”
“Wait! Diego, pull out.”
“Too late. Sorry, Jojo.”
Diego had already been coming before Johnny had spoken.
“I’ll clean you up.” Diego grimaced sheepishly.
“I can do it. ‘Salright.”
Diego felt guilty as he pulled out. There had been no real difference between that and any random hookup. It was just a little more awkward and Johnny hadn’t been able to get off.
“Hey, Jojo, is there something I can do for you now?” He wanted to make Johnny feel good. Johnny shook his head.
“I’m fine. You should go before Gyro gets back.”
Diego nodded and got up to find his clothes and dress in silence. As he walked away, he turned back over his shoulder.
“Joekid.”
Johnny looked up but said nothing.
“I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
Johnny let himself smile a little as Diego left the campsite.