Nailed It!

BY : Michaelis Kristiansen
Category: Manga G to L > JoJo's Bizarre Adventure (JoJo no Kimy? na B?ken) > JoJo's Bizarre Adventure (JoJo no Kimy? na B?ken)
Dragon prints: 1707
Disclaimer: I do not own JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

This was a story written for Meat-Trick to their specifications; they requested a gory story with Mike O. and Ferdinand. ♥

They'd never met before, only having vague idea who the other was. The president kept many people around to assist him with his various 'projects', but rarely would anyone interact if they didn't have to.

Dr Ferdinand leaned against a wall in the white house halls, tapping one foot as he waited; the president was indeed a very busy man, but this simply wasn't respectful. I've been waiting for nearly an hour. He looked at his pocket watch, making a grimace.

The door down the hall opened, and out stepped a man. Ferdinand stood tall a moment, a smile crossing his painted lips before the door went shut again and he saw it was not who he was waiting for.

How rude.

This person was someone he'd never seen before. Tall, serious, dark hair and dark skin, broad shoulders and strong body... and clad in a ridiculous clown suit nobody should be caught dead in.

“How dreadful,” Ferdinand shook his head as the other man started past. “Excuse me please. You. You there.”

The man stopped, and turned back to him with an uplifted eyebrow.

Ferdinand sighed. “Do you know how much longer Mr Valentine will be?” His shoulders squared down with a roll of the eyes. “This isn't my only appointment today.”

The man blinked, frowned, then turned away, starting to walk again.

Ferdinand stared. “Excuse me. Terrible disrespectful, ignoring someone like that.”

The man stopped and turned back again. “Dr Ferdinand, the president would not intentionally spurn you.” He waved one hand, dismissing. “Besides, it's even more rude to refer to him as merely 'Mister' Valentine.”

“I suppose you know so well, then,” Ferdinand said with a huff of breath, crossing his arms. “Mike O, right? We've never met but I'm familiar. I'm a bit surprised to see you're still alive.” Brows lifted, he added, almost as an afternote, “You heard Blackmore died, right? Poor dear.”

The man's lips pursed. “Yes, that's me. And really, we shouldn't be discussing Blackmore. That isn't exactly public information, you know.” He moved closer, putting one hand to the wall over Ferdinand's shoulder, looking down at him; Ferdinand peered up at him from behind the circle of fur trimming his hood.

“Whatever you do say,” Ferdinand turned; he ducked down beneath Mike's arm, sliding out from under him, much to the other man's bewilderment. Ferdinand simply sighed. “I've more mischief to get to today. Really, we'll only be a moment.”

He walked a few steps forward and placed his hand on the doorknob; Mike followed and reached one hand forward, grabbing Ferdinand's shoulder. “Pretty boy, you can't just walk in there, do you understand?” Lifting his chin, Mike looked down at him, and he gave a single sniff, followed with a slight sneer. “I don't think you're comprehending how tense emotions are running about here right now, what with everything that's going on.”

Ferdinand was unaffected. He paused and looked back over his shoulder, nose crinkled up, making a face most inelegant. “Excuse me? Have some respect!” One hand taking Mike's, he removed it from his shoulder. “'Pretty boy.' On that line of thought, was that meant to be an insult? Really, now.” He placed Mike's hand to his hip then, rolling his eyes as his expression faded to a coy smile. “You compliment me.”

Mike drew his hand back unaffected, if not more stoic than before. “Don't go in any rooms here. I take my job rather seriously, doctor.”

Ferdinand took the door handle, and staring Mike straight in the eye, he turned it, pushing the door open, defiance in everything he did.

The door opened. Mike took one step back, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he did, jaw clenching hard. It was out of his hands now. "I warned you."

The sound was odd. A quiet rubber squeaking, scuffling the floor. Ferdinand looked down; lips pressing tight, he lifted one brow, looking at the strange thing at his feet: an animate balloon dog. Several more rubber animals flocked behind it, and he looked at them with a look equally curious and annoyed.

"What in the-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before it was pressing against his calve. Then it was piercing.

His pants ripped as the balloons together crawled up his leg, turning into various metal items before his eyes. The dog turned into a large nail; the rabbits that clustered about his calve were thumbtacks, running up down his flesh, penetrating the cloth easily to reach his body. They implanted into his muscle. Ferdinand's hands moved quickly, running down to his leg where he pulled his tattered pants leg up. In the chaos, he fell, slamming onto his ass with a huff as the air was jolted from his lungs.

That made it worse. The balloons flocked on him, and he threw one arm, trying to throw a swan away; instead, it burst, a knitting needle entirely through his arm.

Mike O. simply watched, a droll little smirk on his lips.

His teeth grit as he reached down, tugging open the cloth on his pants with a sharp rip. Underneath was pale skin, exposed muscle, and thick, flowing blood. One leg kicked up, and with it, he slammed the door shut with a rattle and a bang, but not before one more of the balloon animals got out.

One long, segmented balloon centepede wrapped about Ferdinand's other leg, and when it popped, Ferdinand let loose a piercing scream. A railroad spike stuck clear through his left thigh.

Ferdinand's eyes were wide and his mouth fell open; he let loose a thin squeak, and no other sound came for some time as he sat there, unable to do anything. His hands hovered over his body, fingers clenching in and out, and he wavered in his seat, trying to stay upright there among the tattered remains of balloons, his torn pants, and a slowly-increasing puddle of blood.

“Serves you right,” Mike said, lifting a foot. He tapped Ferdinand's side with the toe of his boot, and Ferdinand glared his way only a moment before returning to summarizing his predicament.

Ferdinand hissed through his teeth, and his hand touched tender at the railroad spike. The pain that shot through his thigh was tremendous, spiking through his body, making his vision falter for a moment. When he removed his hand, the spike bobbled in his leg, and Ferdinand's belly twitched. He leaned back on the wall, unable to focus through the blinding seer. “I... bloody christ!” Head lowering just a bit, he took a look at his nude, metal-riddled legs, and hissed again to see them quickly turning more red than pale. “What do I do?”

Mike's brow went up. “Aren't you a doctor?”

Ferdinand's eyes opened wide as he looked over to Mike, and his voice raised to a hysterical screech. “Not a medical doctor! I'm a goddamn geologist!”

“Why would the President keep in his employ a geologist?” Mike asked, quite casual, as he looked down at Ferdinand. Blood was beginning to pool about his legs, swirling into the grout in the tile. The coppery stink clung hard to the air.

“Why did he hire a clown?” Ferdinand asked back. He leaned forward. The motion was agony. His hand pressed to the door, and he managed to, qith great effort, pull himself to his feet. The world wavered as his head went light and pain washed over him in one great wave. The sound of balloon animals squeaking so seemingly harmless behind the door sent shivers down his spine. His stomach clenched once more.

Mike hesitated, lips pursed tight together. He was torn; he hardly wanted to help Ferdinand out, the arrogant, self-important bastard, but his loyalty to President Valentine argued that anyone important to the President should also be important to him.

It was the second thought that won. He stooped down, and without a word, ducked his body under one of Ferdinand's arms, and he wrapped his arm around his body, helping him to stand. “Come with me,” he said. “Hold the spike. Keep it secure.”

Ferdinand let out a gasp as he reached down, holding the railroad spike. Electricity shot through his body as his hand clutched it. His arm pulsed, the large needle in it shaking with the beating of his heart. Then, together, the two men began to walk, slowly, slowly, an agonizing march. Eventually, they made it to a guest room.

Mike helped Ferdinand up onto one of the beds, and then went to shut the door. Humming to himself quietly, he went to the other bed, pulling the sheets off of it, and then he came back to Ferdinand's side, his still-smug smile not fading. “You're going very pale, Dr Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand looked back at him, swallowing hard; it was hard to focus, but he glanced Mike up and down, watching as the man began to rip up the sheets, to use as dressings. His attention wound up focusing between Mike's legs shortly; he could see there the man's throbbing erection.

Mike leaned in on the bed, and he placed aside the ripped up cloth. His fingers quickly opened Ferdinand's coat, and he began to pull it off the other man, careful as he worked the sleeve loose of the knitting needle inside. “You have to understand that my top priority is to protect the president. I'll use everything at my disposal to do so.”

Ferdinand gave a dry laugh, choking momentarily as his upper body was exposed, down to the thin shirt he wore underneath his parka. When he spoke, it was merely a scratchy whisper. “It seems you enjoy your job a lot, then,” His eyes still hadn't moved.

Mike gave a snort. “Really, now. Is that how you're going to be?” He took up one cloth and placed it against one of the thumbtacks, removing it quickly; he then placed the cloth down hard on the wound to staunch the blood. Ferdinand gasped as it came out, and then again, and again, as the others were freed. “Alright. Here comes the nail.”

Mike's forefinger and middle finger hooked either side of the nail, and then he gave it a firm tug. It came out of Ferdinand's body with a wet squelch, followed by a hard gush of hot, red blood. Ferdinand's mouth came open, his eyes wide, but he couldn't make any noise.

Mike leaned in. His lips brushed Ferdinand's cheek, before he finally laid a kiss down on the other man's forehead. “Calm down.” he said, firmly, delivering it as an order rather than a reassurance. “I am taking care of you.” His fingers twisted, pressing deeply into the wound the nail had come from. “The bleeding will stop soon if you stay still.”

Ferdinand's back arched, and he cried out, hands gripping into the sheets. “Fuck...”

“I'll get the doctor- the real one- to come address the needle and spike.” Mike gave a low groan, thinking of what could be, and nipped against the shell of Ferdinand's ear. “If I remove those, the bleeding won't stop, I'm sure.”

Ferdinand wriggled in place. “I am a real doctor,” he said, but then he laid still, allowing Mike to treat him. Everything was going a little dim, fuzzy from blood loss and the setting in shock. It was warm, and almost pleasant in a way.

“It's so cute that this is what concerns you most,” Mike said, clucking his tongue. “Vain little bird, aren't you? Preening yourself before all else.”

Ferdinand smirked his way. “It's warm,” he said, settling into the bed. Indeed, his legs were pooling in a small, but growing pit of his own crimson blood; the bleeding was beginning to stop, but it came, still the same. “And I am not vain. I am simply full of the self-respect I deserve. Even you like me, don't you? Hard as you are.”

Mike gave a chuckle. “Strange thing you are.” His free hand went down to his fly, and with that, he opened his pants. Out came his erection, long, thick, and pulsing.

Ferdinand eyed it with delight. Ferdinand's tongue ran 'round his lips, and he leaned in, taking the other's prick in his shaking, clammy hand. “Big boy.” he said with a laugh.

“There's still a knitting needle in your arm,” Mike said, smirking, reaching down to run a hand through Ferdinand's hair. His other hand pressed down on Ferdinand's leg harder, trying to staunch the blood. It squished up, and moved through his fingers, and Mike minded not at all. By this point, the only reaction Ferdinand gave was a bit of a twitch and a wriggle, instinctively trying to escape the sharp pain it caused, but he didn't move too far.

“It's fine.” Ferdinand said, his hand beginning to tug. The motions were slow and sloppy. Ferdinand's eyes fluttered as he watched himself work. He swallowed, watching a bead of wetness form at the head. In any other situation, he'd be pulling it into his mouth, but now, he could hardly move.

Mike gave pops of his hips, thrusting into Ferdinand's hand. It didn't last long, though; soon the doctor's long, thin fingers were drooping, and his hand slid off of Mike's prick with a flop, his arm dangling weightless at the side of the bed. His eyes had shut, and he laid there, chest lifting up and down in shallow puffs.

Mike smiled. He took his prick in his free hand, and began to tug it himself. He shut his eyes, breathing in deep; the reek of blood was all that he could detect. His other hand left Ferdinand's body, joining the first; still clutching the blood-sopping rag, he took hold of himself with both hands, and began to thrust into his grip, knees implanting into the bed for support. He grit his teeth, and pumped furiously, giving into the sensations. Moments later, with a cry, he came. Mike's eyes snapped open, and he aimed.

Long, creamy lines of white seed coated Ferdinand's unconscious face, painted in streaks over his lips and cheek.

Mike took a deep breath, and looked down. The bleeding in all the smaller wounds had stopped. He leaned in, pressing two fingers to Ferdinand's neck, feeling his pulse; it was a bit weak, but it was there. He tucked away his prick, it still half-hard, coated in blood, and closed his pants. Then, he leaned in, quickly utilizing the same cloth to wipe the semen from Ferdinand's face.

“Hope you've learned a lesson about toying with a man's duties. I told you that I take my job seriously,” he said, and he turned towards the door, ready to hurry off and find the doctor before it was too late. Really, though, he was sure Ferdinand would be fine.

As he left, he tucked the cloth into his pocket for use again later, smiling as he did. Mike shook his head at the thought of that ridiculous, boastful man lying unconscious in a pool of his own comeuppance brought on by a simple case of vainglory and a childish lack of patience. Mike couldn't be held accountable for what had happened! This whole situation had been both avoidable, and ridiculous.

Really. Mike knew, deep in his heart, that he was entirely innocent.

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story