sleepytimejunction | electric tapestry

electric tapestry

It's been a couple of years since he'd left Italy. Primarily, his skills in speaking English help him get along, especially with his various contract jobs. Of all of them, the Speedwagon Foundation pays the nicest, and the money is usually clean -- that's not exactly typical of most places, but it's kind of refreshing for a change of pace.

Not that Abbacchio probably deserves clean money.

Anyway, he's technically off shift, not that he'd care if he was still on the clock, as it were. He's seen this guy around a few times and hasn't really cared to know who he is, just kind of assumes he's probably upper management somewhere. He isn't bad to look at, but Abbacchio doesn't exactly play nice either. He'd said something along the lines of stop staring or fucking do something about it to the man.

That's about what led him to being on his knees in a closet sucking the guy's dick. Not that he has a problem with it; if he hadn't wanted to, he'd have put up a fight but he genuinely didn't expect him to be this big. To Abbacchio's credit, he doesn't choke, though.

He slides off with a lewd, wet pop and strokes him.

"This all you wanted? Fucking up my lipstick? That shit isn't cheap, stronzo."

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I only said you weren't allowed to touch your cock. You're not touching it now, are you?

[He releases one of Abbacchio's nipples, flicking it with his nail for good measure.]

Go on. Give yourself a treat.

[The rough treatment isn't out of disrespect, he notes faintly. It's Jotaro clearly matching what he'd been looking for. More than just what he said for his preferences; Jotaro clearly gets off on making someone feel good. Maybe it's a good balance for them: Abbacchio preferring to follow orders, Jotaro eager to see how he can make a mess of someone.

He hisses at the flick, then starts to grind himself against Jotaro's thigh and hip. The warmth of the water slicking up his skin makes it easy, makes it feel good.]

Considerate, aren't you. [He reaches back, idly running the pad of his finger over his hole. Still a bit tender, but whatever, he's used to pushing his limits. He slips a finger back in, shuddering.]

Not really. If I were considerate I'd be doing it for you.

[But now, he's got Abbacchio close in a way that's likely to keep him close, the pleasure acting as insurance to hold him there without actually having to keep his hands on him. Which is useful, because it means he can slide one of his hands over Abbacchio's shoulder instead, fisting it in his hair and pulling his head back to make room for Jotaro to lean in and suck possessive kisses against his neck.]

Mm. Are you stretching yourself out for me, or just enjoying yourself?

It was rhetorical.

[Pressure on his hair being pulled makes him bite his lip, holding his breath as he basks for a moment under Jotaro's mouth over his throat.]

Ha. Got nothing to do with you. Maybe I'll get myself off before you get your dick where you want it.

[Ah, there it is, Earn my respect, he'd said. Well, he'll just have to get creative when it comes to going about that, won't he.]

No, I don't think you will.

[One hand stays in Abbacchio's hair; the other slides down to his hip, over his thigh, and in — petting lightly at his cock where it juts against his own leg, before darting his hand to the base and circling around it with a squeeze.]

I decide when you get to come, not you.

[Fuck, he's strong. The grip makes him gasp, bucking almost in confusion at how tight and near painful the hold is, but also just the contact and how much he likes it. Being put into his place. Good.]

If you'll even be able to make me come. [Abbacchio growls out the words, but his body quivers against Jotaro's, not disguising how turned on he is.]

Twice earlier today wasn't enough for you? Use that Stand of yours and play back the tape.

[He's still kissing his neck, each mouthing contact turning rougher than the last, until eventually he just outright bites.]

The worse you behave, the longer you'll wait.

[For a moment, he waits, still stuck in Jotaro's hold and trembling under his mouth. The teeth biting into flesh makes him gasp, his hands finding Jotaro's shoulders. Not pushing him away, not in the least, but because he needs something to hold onto.

Fuck. Fuck, okay. He swallows.]

Didn't say how you wanted me to behave.

Mm. That's fair. I can't expect you to read my mind.

[Painstakingly slowly, he begins to release the pressure around the base of Abbacchio's cock, until his grip is loose enough that he can begin teasing him with slow strokes instead.]

What were you saying about getting my dick where I want it?

[His fingers tease around the head of Abbacchio's cock, flicking at the ridge.]

Let's practice doing as you're told. I'm going to wash your hair, so get down onto your knees. And open your mouth.

[It's agonizing to wait. Grtting his teeth, rolling his hips toward Jotaro's hand, trying to get some friction while he can before Jotaro finally orders him.

The flick makes him gasp, jerking. For a moment, he glares at Jotaro from where he is, then huffs and nods. Slowly, he gets down to his knees, placing his hands onto Jotaro's hips. Leaning in, he nips at Jotaro's hip, then leans back slightly and opening his mouth.]

There. That's better.

[Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he would've cringed to see this. He's never liked feeling tall in the presence of someone on their knees, much less deliberately trying to make someone feel that way.

But as it turns out, he likes giving his partners what they want more than he's controlled by that particular hangup, and Abbacchio's compliance is awfully pretty, the way his spite smooths out and softens into something gentler.

He rests a hand on Abbacchio's head, almost petting him, before lining up his dick with the other and pressing on his head to guide him to take it in.]

Good. Just like that.

[There's a pause, as if he's almost reconsidering, but the comment -- good -- makes him shudder, too. Being told what to do is one thing, but praise is another. He complies that much more easily, mouth open and tongue out before he's letting his head be pressed down.

The task is less daunting now that he knows how to take Jotaro's dick this time. He lowers his head, letting the length slowly press into his mouth. He pauses only midway to swallow and breathe out of his nose before proceeding down further.

Just until his nose bumps against Jotaro's body, and he can smell him like this.]

[His eyes close briefly, as the heat of Abbacchio's mouth surrounds him and he takes in a slow breath in appreciation. All worried about power games aside, it just feels damn good, wet heat mixed with the warmth of the shower spray.

He strokes his thumb against Abbacchio's cheek, then moves around to cup the back of his head and repeat the same motion against the wet nape of his neck.]

Now hold it. Stay still and behave until I let you up again.

[Not wanting to move himself, he uses Star to snag the shampoo bottle and deliver it into his hand, so that he can uncap it and deposit some into his palm.]

[Just giving him a blowjob or letting Jotaro facefuck him would make it easier, but like this he has to stay on his knees and feel the pressure of his cock in his throat. It's simple, but it also means there's no real relief in that regard either. Abbacchio breathes steadily through his nose, closing his eyes at the thumb against his cheek.

There's something to this, just basically being his cockwarmer. It's almost like the little praise he'd gotten before, a pleasure to serve someone he respects.

His fingers dig a little into Jotaro's hips, but presses no further. He just concentrates on how full his mouth is, and breathing.]

Yeah. See? You know how to be good.

[Almost like it's a reward, his fingers descend into Abbacchio's hair, twisting the strands up and onto the top of his head before starting to work up a lather. There's a faint scent to the shampoo that he can't place immediately — flowers, maybe? — but it's recognizable as Abbacchio's, even through the steam and the water.

He works methodically, taking his time, and turns it into a sort of massage, even — stroking fingers, light scratches of his nails against his scalp, and the occasional gentle rock of his hips, mostly because he can't altogether help it for long.]

You like this better than getting yourself off, don't you?

[What a ridiculous thing to suggest. Who would possibly think it's more enjoyable to be kneeling in a shower being a good little cockwarmer than actually touching himself?

Well, Abbacchio, maybe. And besides, it's not really about what he wants; it's just another way of giving him that appearance of control, which seems to be the thing he really wants most.]

[He really can't help it, but there is a soft whine that escapes him. A result of the mix of Jotaro's comments and the way his fingers feel in his hair, lathering him up and scratching at his scalp.

Between his own legs, his dick feels harder somehow, almost painfully so. It twitches, leaking, easy to miss under the shower spray. He wants to touch himself, but he wants that praise more, to wait and nuzzled up against Jotaro's hips, even when they rock a little bit. It's not too much movement that he can't prepare for at least, and he swallows again, shivering.

It's hard to wait, but he does, shivering wrapped tight around Jotaro's cock.]

[He makes him wait longer than he strictly needs to, but that's what he wants — more of those soft whines, to push him further down into a state of placid calm. It feels good to train all that spite out of him, Jotaro muses. Feels good to watch his little brat behave.]

Good. You're done, come back up here and rinse.

[Only — he's far from unaffected by the feeling of Abbacchio's mouth wrapped around him for this long, and it's so tempting to relieve that pressure that he can't help but amend his previous thought.]

Or I could come on your face first. How would you like that?

[Slowly, he slides off of Jotaro's dick, sucking in air through his mouth to catch his breath. Not that he was out of it completely, but there was enough pressure to make it a bit more difficult otherwise.

He curls his hand over the base of Jotaro's cock.]

I just washed my face and now you wanna mess it up again. 'Course you fucking do.

[It's not a no.]

Yare yare, you were quieter with your mouth full.

[Not that he didn't expect something like this as soon as he could speak again, but still. At least now he's finally free to rock his hips freely without having to worry about choking him, and the hand wrapped around him feels good.

Of course, it'll feel even better in a minute, once he starts getting off from it.

But first, he slaps Abbacchio's cheek, a glancing blow meant more to surprise than to sting.]

I asked you a question.

[The little slap doesn't hurt, but it does take him off guard. After a beat, he sees it for what it is, and doesn't take any real concern from it other than it's Jotaro getting his attention.

He moves his hand over the length in front of him, from base to tip, slow and gliding with the help of the shower's water and his own saliva.]

Come on my face.

Good.

[He lets his head fall back a little as each stroke makes a new warm breath of pleasure glide along his nerves, and he rolls his hips into the motions of Abbacchio's hand, picking up the pace only as he feels an orgasm starting to build.]

Yeah...

[When he does come, it's fairly quiet — no howling, no stifled scream. He grunts faintly, a noise buried deep in the back of his throat combined with a hiss of breath behind his teeth, and jerks his hips forward as one after another, ropes of come land on Abbacchio's cheek and nose and lips.]

[There's a sharp inhale from Abbacchio when Jotaro finally comes, the mess of it dripping down his face. He doesn't look bothered or offended, instead slowly licking his lips clean as he looks up at Jotaro, not yet making an effort to rinse off his face.

He looks good after having just finished. He'd wanted that inside of him, but he liked the idea of his come painting his face too. He wouldn't want it to be anyone else, which is a thought that spikes a bit of anxiety in him before he remembers to put that away.]

That good, boss?

[At length, his eyes slide open again, and it's his turn to look distant and hazy as he takes in the whole sight of him: messy face, soap lather still clinging to his hair, pretty and damp on his knees in this cramped bath in a terrible apartment.]

Second to none.

[He says it breathlessly, then taps the underside of Abbacchio's chin.]

C'mon. You've — mmmn, you've more than earned your treat.

[He considers washing away the come, but he doesn't. He'll leave that in Jotaro's hands until he says to do otherwise. Instead, Abbacchio gets to his feet per instructions, reaching out to place his hands onto the back of Jotaro's neck.]

Per favore, capo.

Taught you some manners, huh...

[It's unexpectedly intimate, the way Abbacchio surprises him by winding his hands around his neck. It keeps him close, yes, but something like this — it's closer to dancing than it is to fucking around, and it makes Jotaro wonder how much is an act for his benefit, and how much is really just the mood Abbacchio is in.

Well. He moves them a half-step, aligning Abbacchio more deliberately beneath the cascade of water from the shower head, and lets the suds start to rinse away properly.]

Sì, certo.

[In the wake of the sudsy water streaming down Abbacchio's back, he traces his hand down and follows the river to the cleft of his ass, rubbing lightly at his entrance before pressing a finger inside. This time, though, his goal isn't to stretch him or finger him; what he's up to gradually becomes apparent as he rubs against Abbacchio's inner walls, looking for his prostate.]

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