#alright what goddamn piece of punctuation is fucking up my tags now

[agoddamn]

Every other gotdamn series has magic powered by desire or emotion, can't I just have one motherfuckin' group of highly regimented analytical magic people who process emotion differently from the baseline societal norm and aren't necessarily wild about physical contact?

#if only they had THE RIGHT KIND OF FEELINGS #i know jedi don't actually hate touch I've seen the photosets #but hey man what's wrong with literally just not being into touching a lot of people? #y'all wanna start a hugbox to meet your needs you do you but don't drag me into it #i was slightly tongue-in-cheek about assburger parallels in the Jedi before #but after several essays of actually I am not tongue-in-cheek about it #alright what goddamn piece of punctuation is fucking up my tags now #star wars

[ylla]

Farhenheit or Centigrade

Series: JJBA Ships: avpol Tags: Grinding, Dirty Talk, Anal Sex, Handcuffs, Groping, Teasing Rating: E

AO3 LINK

ALRIGHT, tuffle-puff commissioned me for some avpol, and who am I to deny such a polite request (not to mention avpol being like, one of my very favorite JJBA ships ever). I hope you enjoy it, I worked damn hard on it. This went through at least five rewrites before I got something I really liked down. If you like what you see, and want to commission me, feel free to message me, and we will work something out!

Also, big apologies for the terrible French. I can't speak a lick of it, and I had to rely on google translate.

As always, remember to comment on the fic, kudos the fic, and bookmark the fic to see more of the same fic content.

"Putain été," Polnareff grumbled as he dragged himself home. The city was in the middle of the nastiest heatwave in recent memory, and Jean Pierre Polnareff, who in his infinite wisdom decided that he should walk the five blocks to the gym and back, was the only man stupid enough to be out in it.

His boyfriend had offered to drop him off at the gym on his way to the grocery store, but Polnareff had shot him down. It was just a little heat! Anyone who complained about it was being a big baby. Clearly, the joke had been on him, because he was melting by the time he reached the gym. He had been the first patron of the gym that day when he arrived, and was still the only soul there when he was finished with his workout. The guy working the front desk even offered to give him a ride home, stating that it was so dead, no one would notice. Plus, you know, the gym might be considered liable if Polnareff died from heat stroke on his way home. Of course, pride caused Polnareff to refuse. He'd be fine, he was sure of it.

Flat-top drooping, basketball shorts and tanktop sticking to his skin, a pool of sweat in his beat-up Nikes. Polnareff had made a big mistake; this was easily the shittiest hill to die on. He would succumb to dehydration or the heat before making it home, he was sure. Just collapse on the sidewalk and expire, corpse frying like a big piece of raw chicken in a skillet. No one who loved him would know what had happened to the sexy Jean Pierre Polnareff. Perfect strangers would find him hours later, after the cursed sun had set and reasonable people would finally leave the cool confines of their homes to enjoy the outdoors, only to stumble upon a perfectly cooked idiot on the ground.

This was a weird line of thinking, and Polnareff did his best to push it out of his mind. When his apartment complex rolled into view, he nearly wept out of joy. The brisk air from the lobby made his knees almost buckle, damn near making him look like an even bigger fool to the people milling around. He was one to walk the 4 flights of stairs to the apartment, but he was just goddamn tired today. Which was unfortunate for the people that shared the elevator with him. They visible recoiled from him as he took his place in the middle. The Frenchman was mildly offended. He didn't stink did he? Was he that sweaty? The answer to both of these questions was a resounding 'Yes'.

When he opened his apartment door, he actually did sob little. Mostly because Polnareff was dramatic, but who cares? Iggy wasn't in the immediate vicinity, and Polnareff was pretty sure Avdol was still out shopping. The cold tile of the living room floor was the oasis to his overheated traveler. Polnareff sank to his knees and laid face first onto the ground, groaning into the stone. It took him a few minutes to kick his shoes off, but once he was successful, the relief was immediate. As was him succumbing to exhaustion; he passed out on the ground before he could truly appreciate how it felt against his skin.

It felt like only minutes passed before he was woken by something tugging his hair and what felt like someone's foot poking him in the head. Polnareff turned his head and cracked an eye open. His boyfriend, Mohammed Avdol, stood over him.

"Bonsoir, Jean," he deadpanned, "I see that your workout didn't go so well."

"That went fine, it was the walking to and from that kicked my ass," Pol whined. There was an attempt at rolling over, but something still incessantly tugged at his hair. "If that's Iggy chewing on my hair, I swear-"

Avdol started laughing, "It is." Av made shooing motions, which earned him a snarl from Iggy, but Pol felt the toothy grip in his hair relinquish. "Come on, let's finish cooling you off," Avdol walked into the kitchen, "I bought those popsicles you like."

"Thank god," Polnareff groaned as he got to his feet, following Avdol into the kitchen, "I'm so damn hot."

Avdol busied himself with pulling out two popsicles out of the freezer; Polnareff swiped a water bottle and started guzzling it down like he hadn't seen water in 50 years. In his enthusiasm, he splashed water all over himself, causing his white tank to cling to his pecs more than it already had been.

"Mo, give me the goods," he panted after finishing his water, "You got the best flavor right?"

Avdol hummed, "Alarmingly Blue Raspberry? Of course I did, we both know you refuse to eat any other flavor. Here-" When Avdol turned towards him, popsicle in hand, he stopped short, eyes glued to the accidental one-man wet t-shirt contest Polnareff had entered in.

Polnareff didn't notice, he was too busy ripping the wrapper off of the popsicle and shoving it into his mouth. It was just the right amount of cold he needed, and he couldn't but close his eyes and moan around it, sliding it in and out of his mouth. Typically, Polnareff mimed giving a blowjob on any phallic food in Avdol's presence. Hell, what kickstarted their relationship was a determined Polnareff deepthroating a banana for the 3rd time that week. But at that moment, any kind of obscene noises or actions he was making wasn't on purpose. He was too tired, too hot, too sweaty-

Warm hands started groping his chest. Polnareff opened his eyes and was met with Avdol's hungry expression. If it had been literally any other time, he would've already been naked, ready to be dicked down in the middle of their kitchen. But, at that moment? No way.

He held his half-eaten popsicle in his mouth and smacked Avdol's hands away. Avdol put them back, Pol smacked them away again. This went on before Polnareff spat his popsicle out in the sink, "Stop, I'm gross!"

"I don't care that you're sweaty."

They kept slapping at each other, before it devolved into full-on wrestling, pushing and shoving each other out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Both were equaled in strength, and neither used underhanded tactics to gain an edge over the other. They may play for keeps, but it was always on level.

Unfortunately, in his attempt to stop himself from getting more sweaty, Polnareff started getting way too hot again, perspiring even more. Hindsight's 20/20. Clothes were being pulled off, though Pol's were more difficult, since they were damp from sweat. Which made him curl his lip in disgust.

Stripped to his underwear, Polnareff was shoved backwards onto their bed; he hadn't even realized they had made it that far. Av peeled off his undershirt and tried to straddle him, but Polnareff hit him with a reversal. A power struggle ensued; Avdol tried to regain his upper hand while Polnareff proved to be a slippery foe (literally, because he was so sweaty, which he thought was gross as hell). It took quite a bit of effort, but Pol managed to hold down Avdol long enough to handcuff him to the bed. "There," Polnareff straddled Avdol, admiring his handiwork, "Now you can't grope me." The fortune teller was tressed up nicely, and Pol couldn't help but run a hand appreciatively over his abs.

Av arched an eyebrow at him, "Really, Jean? That was the only reason you handcuffed me to our bed? So I couldn't appreciate your chest?"

"Momos méchants et méchants sont menottés sur le lit pour expier ses péchés."

"Tu es stupide comme l'enfer."

Polnareff threw his head back and guffawed, "You choose to insult me, but you forget who's in control here." He punctuated that with a grind against Avdol's erection.

"Can I ask what-- your intent here is?" Avdol said, voice hitching as Polnareff continued his ministrations.

"Pour tester votre résolution," Polnareff dragged his tongue across his upper lip, "Let's see how long you last before you give in."

Both knew that the other had big needs. Both knew that they went through handcuffs like a person goes through underwear, since they're always too flimsy to withstand desperate, needy tugs. And both were very aware of how much Avdol loved Polnareff's big ol' honking tits and sweet ass (Pol's words; Avdol was horrified to hear them be referred to that way).

The slow, deliberate grinding against Avdol's dick was a special kind of sacchrine torture. Polnareff delighted in the low groans that his hip swaying elicted from his boyfriend. Ever the showman, he threw his head back, moaning as he cupped his pecs, rubbing his nipples between his thumb and forefinger. That earned him a harsh growl and Avdol thrusting up into him.

With a shit-eating grin, Polnareff cooed, "À quel point voulez-vous me baiser?"

"Si mal fichu," Avdol answered through gritted teeth, sweat pouring down his scarred face.

There was an obvious tent in the front of Polnareff's underwear, but it was nothing compared to the twitching cock he was grinding his ass against. He sucked on his teeth, damn if he didn't want that in him right now.

Either they had been like this for too long, or Avdol had been pent-up all day; Avdol grunted out, "Fuck this," and broke the handcuffs in one sharp tug. At first, Polnareff was a little shocked that Av had said the fuck word, but he didn't have time to think about that, as Avdol had thrown him onto his back and shoved his tongue down his throat. Not that he was complaining. Nothing was a bigger turn-on for him than riling up his boyfriend so much that he couldn't help himself.

Pol broke off from their sloppy, bruising kisses, "Lube."

Avdol reached back into their nightstand, grabbing the bottle as Pol ripped his own underwear off, cock springing free. Back between Polnareff's knees, Av coated his fingers and got to work. Preparation was quick; Pol was half-afraid that he would be giving a taste of his own medicine, considering how long he had Avdol underneath him. But there was nothing to fear, because as soon as he was ready, Avdol rolled him over onto his knees, and slid his cock into him in one slow, fluid motion.

Avdol began rutting into Polnareff like an animal. Their flesh slapped together, pairing with both men's moans to make a symphony of lewd noises. With a firm, but gentle hand, Avdol grabbed a fist full of Pol's hair, pulling him up until his back was flush with Av's chest.

A mouth pressed up against Pol's ear. "Je vais vous toucher où je veux, quand je veux," Avdol's voice was harsh and full of need. His hands found Polnareff's pecs, kneading them with strong hands. He made sure to pay special attention to his nipples; pulls and twisting, just the way Polnareff liked it. The Frenchman whined, arching his back up into the hands that groped him. Avdol had not slowed down his pace; he was flame incarnate and Polnareff felt his fire burn him from the inside out. It was heat that he wanted, needed more than anything else. The fire that was stoked inside him was reaching fever pitch.

Pol knew neither of them could last much longer. "Mo," he gasped, "Mo, I'm so close--"

Avdol tsked, "Prie pour elle."

"S'il vous plaît laissez-moi cum, me remplir," Polnareff whined again, his voice raising a few octaves as he felt Avdol's hand wrap around his cock, jerking it roughly. He didn't take long to finish, crying out Avdol's name as he spilled cum all over his closed fist. It would have embarrassed him, if Avdol hadn't pushed him down on his belly, rutting into him in a frenzy before choking out "Jean!" as he filled him up with one, two, three hard thrusts.

After Avdol finished riding out his orgasm, he slowly pulled out of Polnareff, as if he was was savoring how his boyfriend's ass felt. Polnareff was close to passing out again, dimly aware of Av moving him so he could be under a sheet and comfortable, and barely registered the mumbly 'I love you's' they exchanged before falling to sleep.

Polnareff woke up hours later to Iggy farting directly into his yawning mouth. Iggy jumped off the bed before Polnareff could grab him, cursing in French as he watched Iggy look back at him with a horrible smug grin on his dumb doggy face. The audacity. The setting sun still provided the room some light, Pol didn't have to blindly grope for the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand to wash out the taste of dog farts from his mouth. Somehow, Avdol had managed to sleep through his cussing. Small favors.

He made to get up, but found himself firmly glued to the bed and Av, who was still sleeping peacefully beside him. As much as Pol wanted to stay and enjoy the relaxed face of the love of his life, he was also disgusting and actually stuck. Extracting himself was proving to be excruciating, some body hair was being left behind with each pull. Finally, he got fed up and jerked everything away like a bandaid, shrieking in the process. His actions jolted Avdol awake, who in his panic, bonked heads with Pol. Both start groaning in pain, rolling around on their shared bed, clutching their heads. After a few moments of pained silence, Avdol started laughing.

"What's so damn funny," Polnareff scowled, rubbing the spot on his head where him and Avdol collided.

"Nothing," Avdol chuckled, pressing a finger to what was a growing bump on his forehead, "Just realizing how much I adore you, Jean Pierre, and how there's no one else I'd rather be a klutz with."

The expression on Polnareff's face softened, "Je t'aime, Mohammed."

"Je t'aime aussi, Jean Pierre," Avdol kissed his forehead. He stood up, stretching his arms, "Come on, let's go shower before we get dinner."

"We are NOT going out, I'm still cooked from earlier."

Avdol snorted, "We'll just order pizza. Now let's go shower, we're both disgusting."

Polnareff shuffled into the bathroom after his boyfriend. He knew this shower would inevitably lead to Round 2, but hey, at least this time, he wouldn't be so damn sweaty.

#jjba #jean pierre polnareff #mohammad avdol #avpol