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It's dumb as shit, Jotaro knows, to let Dio's son flirt with him. "Let", as if he has the tiniest bit of control over the situation, but something about how he reacts must be amusing or Giorno surely would've dropped it in favor of other torments by now. Even now he stands too close in the afternoon sunshine, fingers tangling possessively in the chain on Jotaro's collar as the girls who tail him home every day try too loudly to figure out whether they should be defensive or appreciative.
"Father's going to try to kill you again," Giorno says as if the girls aren't there; the chain rustles in his hand like the sound of summer-green leaves and the scent of honeysuckle hits Jotaro's nose. "You should make your final hours enjoyable ones." The space between their bodies and the tilt of Giorno's head say he has a few suggestions. Jotaro's breath catches in his chest despite himself, the planned retort stumbles on his tongue.
"If you're looking to get deflowered, you might want to try a landscaping service," he manages after an agonizing moment, and all the effort he's been putting into not looking goes to waste when Giorno throws his head back and bares his gold-on-cream neck in what sounds and looks like a genuine laugh.
"Come on, I'll buy you something nice for your last meal." He steps back, hand still caught in a honeysuckle chain, and leads Jotaro away from his whining entourage. Jotaro doesn't resist: if he really has to fight again tonight, it might be worth trying to get a taste of that boy's skin.