sleepytimejunction | electric tapestry

[He always has this problem when it comes to the men he fucks.

It's not like Jotaro likes admitting he has a type, but when it gets right down to it, there certainly is a common denominator among the people he winds up in bed — or in this case, in a cramped closet — with. They're always beautiful, always leggy, and they always have the most spiteful, standoffish demeanor imaginable.

(If he's being completely honest with himself, it's not even just the men. His ex-wife fit that description, too, albeit to a lesser degree. He'd liked her for it, her spirit and her edge. He'd liked the way she wasn't afraid to tell him off. He still does, even now that they've separated for reasons that have nothing to do with a loss of love.)

He just — he's drawn to it, somehow. Maybe it's because fighting is and has always been the thing he understands best, since that November afternoon when Jiji and Avdol had first explained what the thing he'd wrongly identified as an evil spirit really was. Fighting is easy, now, like breathing. Tenderness and attachment make him rigid, give him terrible sweating nightmares from the panic at letting himself be so vulnerable. There's no vulnerability in this, not when he has to fight for every inch and put up with a smart mouth along the way.

(Rohan always puts up a fight, too. Rohan likes his strength, likes seeing him use it. He doesn't know what this one likes, not yet, but he's starting to figure it out pretty quickly.)

He's leaned up against the chipped plaster wall, hips jutted forward, one hand twisted in the guy's long hair but letting him set the pace as he sucks him off. He doesn't precisely remember what his name is; he's absolutely positive he hasn't offered up his own.

It doesn't matter, really. It doesn't seem like that's what either of them are here for, and honestly, that's fine. It was either this or go have a smoke, and frankly, the orgasm is probably a lot better for his lungs.]

I like you better with my dick in your mouth. You're quieter.

[Still, the stroking feels good, so he isn't too rough with him. Just twists his grip a little, lets him feel the pull in his hair.]

Why? What more will you let me do?

No you don't.

[It was his mouth that got him here, and not for shutting up. He wets his lips, the black shining, even if it's marred and a mess but he applies a thick enough coat that it doesn't matter.

He only stops to drag his tongue over the head of his cock, casually still stroking it. Abbacchio sneers a little when he feels the tug on his hair. It's not unusual to feel that pulled, and there's plenty of it.]

Do you want to fuck or not?

You're not gonna get much out of this if I say no, are you?

[His control is good, it always is, but he's not trying very hard to exercise it right now. His breath catches a little as the guy's tongue works over the tip of his dick, the stroking still feeling good even if it's not nearly enough.]

Have you got a condom?

I got two hands. I can jerk off if you don't want to.

[Some guys just want a mouth and not think about it. Fortunately, it seems like this guy is fine with the idea.

At the question, he nods. He normally might not care, but it's better to play it safe. He doesn't even know this guy's name.]

Hopefully it fits. [One final lick and he's getting up, peering at the other man, like a challenge.]

I want to. Now turn around.

[It's cramped quarters, but there's at least enough room to move around a little. So there's really no excuse for the way he gets the guy by the shoulder and spins him halfway around, dragging him close until they're pressed back-to-chest and he can start working his pants open.

There's a height difference, but it's not too bad of one. They still fit up snugly together, and he can still grind his damp cock against the guy's clothed ass while he works on getting his pants open. Not exactly conducive to prepping him to fuck, holding him like this, but —

He just, he wants to stroke him a little in return. It's not sentimental or anything. He just likes to watch, likes to learn what to look for in his partner's body language before he gets distracted with his own pleasure.]

Let's see what you've got in here.

[He gets the fastening open, the waistband loose. His hand delves inside, looking for the heat of his bulge.]

[Shit, this guy is strong. Abbacchio isn't really used to someone being on the same level like this, and it's kind of thrilling. He huffs out, then shifts back when he feels his dick against his ass. Well, he was going to have to give these clothes a wash anyway.]

Hha.

[Abbacchio breathes out heavily, honestly not expecting the hand cupping him. Unsurprisingly, he's hard, having palmed himself a bit before and admittedly was getting worked up swallowing down his guy's cock anyway.

So he leans back against the sturdy weight of his chest, letting himself roll into the hand touching him.]

Wanna see, huh.

[He peels down his pants more, like an invitation.]

C'mon.

Hnn.

[The close quarters and the faint beginnings of sweat are bringing out the scent of the guy's shampoo; he catches a breath of it as he's settling into place. It's interesting. Softer than what he would've expected. Maybe kind of floral? Definitely a particular scent, though, and not just the clean soap-smelling utilitarian stuff he uses himself. It's all right. Something to remember, he doesn't mind having that extra little bit of memory to attach to this.

It's better once the guy's pants are off. Better when it's just hot flesh against his palm. He's not teasing, either, when he strokes him; each movement of his hand is deft and confident — all the same tricks he uses on himself when he's jerking off.]

Keep it down, anyone could wander past.

[He says, as he does his damnedest to make that nigh-impossible to live up to.]

Shit.

[With the palm actually touching him, flesh to flesh, it's so much more intense. Abbacchio bites against a knuckle, trying to muffle his groan as he bucks into the contact. There's no holding back from either of them apparently, and he's pretty fucking sure this guy isn't even trying to make is easy for him.

What an asshole. He kind of likes that.

Abbacchio grits his teeth and adjusts his position a little, rubbing his bare ass against the cock he was just sucking on a minute ago.]

Not like-- I'm a screamer. 'Less you think you're hot shit enough to make me.

Guess we'll find out —

[His breath hitches again in his throat. The truth is nearly everyone would look loud next to him; he's always been quiet, his reactions controlled and subtle. Sometimes people don't like that, it makes them think he's not into it, not interested. It's better when that doesn't matter, he's found. He drowns himself in self-reflection enough as it is; he doesn't want to indulge it during sex, too.

The position shift really gets him, though. If he angles just a little himself, it makes his cock land snugly in the valley between this guy's asscheeks, makes grinding on him feel even better.]

Hh. Nn — can you. Hahh. Come more than once?

[Fuck. He won't lie, it's hot having his dick like that, just rubbing up against him. The saliva should be enough to keep it slick for awhile at least, and he absently rolls his hips back to press against him, letting his cock slide there.]

Yeah-- yeah, no problem.

[Honestly, he isn't used to something as generous as that. Getting off once is even a luxury with partners, twice is another thing.]

Good. I didn't bring lube.

[This is so ill-advised all around but — hell, if he were interested in common sense and solid reason right now, he wouldn't be fucking some random Speedwagon Foundation contractor in a closet right now.

He'll worry about counting orgasms later. For the moment, he brings his free hand up to loosely clasp the guy by the throat, making sure his back stays arched and his hips jerking forward while he picks up the pace with the hand on his cock.]

Ah--

[Abbacchio has to swallow down his moan, just letting this guy grab his throat and jerk him off. It'd be hell of a lot smarter to not let some guy he doesn't know have his hand there, but Abbacchio's stopped making good decisions ages ago. It doesn't hurt that he finds it hot, the pressure there but not cutting off his air.

Fuck it. He rolls his hips into the hand stroking him, chasing after the sensation. It's nice to have something other than his own hand. It's a little callused, but not surprising. Softer than he was expecting, actually, especially his strength.

Abbacchio stuffs his knuckles into his mouth again, biting down, moaning as he fucks into the other man's hand almost mindlessly, letting himself be held up like this. He gasps, his dick jerking as he comes, not caring how pacing himself out. Not if he's going to get to go twice anyway.]

[That was pretty, he thinks absently, watching the man twist and writhe along with the rhythm he's setting. It only occurs to him belatedly that not everyone would take well to a hand as big as his wrapping around their throat; this could've gotten bad fast, but this guy didn't seem to mind it. Actually, just the contrary; it really seemed to get him going.

Hmm.

Something to take stock of while he has the chance, anyway. He won't be thinking for much longer, not now that he's one step closer to being inside this guy whose name he doesn't even know, who's still warm and solid and there for him to grind against while he strokes him through his climax, getting his fingers covered thoroughly in his come.]

I knew you'd be noisy. "Not a screamer", my ass.

[He rolls his hips, grinding against him again, and fuck, if he really wanted he could probably get himself off, too, just doing that, but he wants to know how it feels to push inside him even more.]

Hha-- shut the fuck up.

[The words hardly sound vitriolic, still coming down from having just finished, squirming absently in the man's hold. Honestly, he's not even offended, and it's not like he didn't try to muffle himself anyway.

He pushes his hair out of his face and peers over his shoulder.]

Got what you needed from that? [Spreading out his legs as much as he can -- which isn't much considering the size of the closet -- he presses back against him.]

Edited 2020-05-03 06:22 (UTC)

Better than nothing.

[Which...still isn't great, and he's cognizant of that. He doesn't mind being rough and impersonal, but it's not like he wants to actually hurt this guy, either.]

Say something if you want me to slow down.

[Want. It's a deliberate choice, intentionally avoiding the word need. One is just a little too personal; the other is better.

It's a snug fit for maneuvering, but with some creative shifting and arm angles, he manages to bring his come-covered fingers to find the guy's hole, rubbing at it with two fingertips so he knows what's coming before one of his fingers starts to press in.]

This isn't going to be quick. I'm probably bigger than most guys you've taken.

[If anything, he's going to get off on it. Something rough, something that'll make him ache nicely for awhile, something else that'll take off the edge that isn't cheap wine. This is still something messier than he's usually done, but he's hardly going to complain.

Want. He catches that, even in the haze of the moment. Huh, okay. Abbacchio swallows, closing his eyes a moment, don't think hard about it--]

S'fine.

[Fuck, all right. Abbacchio breathes in, convincing himself to relax, which isn't too hard after he'd just come, so there's less resistance to the man's fingers.]

Heh. Thought about that. [He licks his lips, arching his back a little, but otherwise letting him do all the work.] Know you're gonna be pretty big.

Hm.

[Good, he can feel him relax after a moment, the pressure around his finger easing just slightly. His dick is starting to ache in protest, but he won't have to ignore that for long. This is more important, anyway, getting this right. Making sure it's right.]

You're into that.

[It's a question hidden in the guise of a statement, lacking the inflection that would betray an inquiry away, but it's there nevertheless. He wiggles his finger a little, testing the resistance, then experimentally pumps it in and out. Still a little tight for his liking; he'll need a bit longer to adjust before he can really start stretching him out properly.]

What else? Cocksucking, obviously. But besides that?

[The wiggle makes him breathe in sharply, his back arching. The question, though, makes him laugh, the sound airless and quiet.]

You care that much about that?

[Abbacchio presses his forehead against the wall, breathing out long and slow, taking in more of his finger as he pleases. Who even asks this kind of thing for a one off fling? None of the other guys he's fucked around with cares about any of that.

Huh. Whoever this guy ends up taking seriously is probably in for a treat. How nice is that? Too nice for someone like Abbacchio.]

You don't have time for everything I like.

Maybe I just want to make sure I'm memorable.

[He fingers him a little more, gauging, making sure he's comfortable with one before working up to two.]

...In a good way.

[He clarifies, shifting his free hand to rest against the back of the guy's head, adding just the slightest pressure to make him feel like he's being held there against the wall, pressed there by someone's outside will.]

Sure. I'll remember you as that nice guy I fucked in a closet-- mm.

[A visible shudder runs through him at the second finger getting introduced. He squirms a bit before he gets comfortable with the size of the intrusion, but he's not sure even that's going to be enough to work him up to the size of his guy's dick.

The hand on his head makes him hold his breath, then he huffs out through his nose.]

I like-- being told what to do. And you're strong enough that I'd let you.

[It's fun to fight back, too. But he likes to be made to respect his partner. It's more of a rare treat then he'd care to admit; in most cases, men are happy enough to have a hole to fuck and he can deal with that.

This is a little different, clearly.]

Better than that fucking asshole who took what he wanted and left you hanging in a closet.

[Not that he particularly wants to get into all of the details of all of that. This isn't about sentiment or attachment. It's just not as fun for him without that added level of knowing, that faint thrill that he did that, he pushed the right buttons and look how it made his partner feel.

Still. Likes being told what to do, huh? Okay, that's something he can work with. It's actually just about the right amount of sharing, really; it's not like he wants the guy's life story and laundry list of sexual interests. Just a little something to work off of is perfectly fine.]

Why the fuck am I the one prepping you, then?

[He spreads his two fingers a little, like it's for emphasis.]

Put yours in, too. It'll go faster.

What a fucking gentleman you are.

[Comparatively speaking to most partners he's had, that's not untrue. But he's hardly going to complain, even if there's a part of him that screams internally it's too kind, he doesn't deserve that, just fuck him up--

He peers at the other man from the way he's pressed up against the wall, then sneers at him, squirming a bit at the feeling of being spread out. It's almost too much but not quite, just edging on it, and he likes that too. Abbacchio curls two fingers, worming them inside to work up alongside the others already inside.]

Nnh. Fuck-- that wide enough for you?

Yare yare...maybe I should've gagged you.

[Well, if he wants to mouth off. He pushes the guy against the wall a little harder, crooking his fingers to brush up against the other man's inside him. It's such a little thing, but the thought of it makes his dick throb anyway, makes a soft hiss of breath escape from between his pressed-together teeth.

Fuck, he really doesn't want to wait around, but — a little bit more, probably, just to be safe, just to make sure he's really relaxed enough for this.]

Don't tighten up. You'll get what you want in a minute.

Too late for that now, huh?

[The firmer pressure makes him shiver, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels the other man's fingers curl up inside of him, just brushing up where it's most sensitive. His hips jerk, and he doesn't even muffled his moan this time.

Yeah. He's definitely hard again.]

Worried it's gonna be a tight fit? Would be for you with just about anyone.

It's too much for some people.

[Maybe if he were anyone else, it would sound like bragging, except that his tone stays completely matter-of-fact. It's definitely happened before, he's not proud of it, trying to ease his way inside a partner as carefully as he can and having the whole thing go south because he was just too much. He never comes away from those feeling good, orgasm or not.

But it doesn't seem like this is going to be one of those times. This one's used to rougher treatment, gets off on it. No, this one's going to be okay, he thinks.]

But I bet not for you. With a mouth like that you must be a champ at taking dick.

[He fucks him a little more with his fingers, stirring him up, and when he finally draws them out again he gives him a slap on the ass for good measure.]

Where's the condom?

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