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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[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.]

[There's a soft sigh as the water rinsing away shampoo. It's never stopped being a relaxing sensation, especially after he'd grown out his hair. Most of the come on his face starts to rinse off under the shower, but not thoroughly.

He breathes in sharp at the finger prodding at him, but he relaxes soon after, softly groaning at the feeling of it pressing inside. Even just the sensation of it roaming and rubbing up his insides is nice, but he jerks and arches his back after Jotaro finds what he's looking for.]

Ah-- fuck--

[Abbacchio's fingers dig a little into Jotaro, then he tries to widen his legs to let him do more.]

You're all right.

[Even amid the soothing, there's still a veneer of authority in the soft way he says it. You are, like Jotaro's the one who gets to decide it, because even being gentle there are ways to demand his respect, and he's enjoying himself coming up with each and every one.

He hums approvingly when Abbacchio spreads himself wider, continuing to rub inside of him with his fingertips. Sometimes he's right on the spot; other times it's close but not quite. But it quickly becomes apparent what he's up to, trying to work Abbacchio up just from the internal massage alone.]

Has anyone ever done this to you?

[It's soft, but it's still an assurance from an authoritative source. Abbacchio shudders, nodding a little in response. Right, okay, he's all right, he can just relax in Jotaro's hands. So he does, holding on like his life depends on it.

God, it's good. His cock feels like it's throbbing, only getting a hair's relief from the occasional splash of hot water from the shower. He wants to touch himself so fucking bad, but he's steadily seeing what Jotaro is trying to accomplish.

At the question, he lets out a faint laugh.] No. Not like this.

No. But I know what you need, don't I.

[His finger bears down a touch harder, like he's punctuating his point with pleasure to match.]

You offered me your bed. I think I'll keep you in it with me. Let you sleep tonight with my cock inside you, how about that.

[He ducks his head, bumping his forehead lightly against Abbacchio's, keeping his finger working and rubbing all the while.]

Show me those good manners and I'll let you touch yourself. Or don't, and you can get off just from this.

[The pressure on his prostate makes him whine, hips trembling. God, more of that, please please--

He bites his lower lip, thinking about it. Jotaro in his bed, cock buried inside of him. He wants that almost as bad as coming right now. Abbacchio shifts back, trying to grind himself against the finger rubbing up inside of him.]

Want me to keep saying please. That it?

And calling me capo. I like your accent.

[He rumbles a satisfied sound, moving with Abbacchio, letting him get away with each needy jerk of his hips and rewarding him by carefully working in another to join the first.]

Feels much better than when you were doing it yourself, doesn't it?

[A second finger makes it feel even better, filling him up. Abbacchio bends over slightly, leaning more of his weight on Jotaro, not even trying to hide how he's openly groaning against him.]

S'good. Capo.

[Just a bit more. God, he wants to touch himself so bad--]

I'm close. Please, capo.

That's right. It doesn't feel this good when you're alone.

[He leans right back into Abbacchio, supporting him, letting him feel the coiled strength in his body while he works him over. It's tempting to be merciful and stroke his cock, or even just to let him do it himself, but the thought of getting him off without it is too decadent to refuse. What better and subtler demonstration of authority, than to play his body like a fine instrument and make him come just from toying with it?

It's enough to make his own dick twitch, even in the aftermath of his own climax, and start to get interested again.]

It's good because it's me. And you're going to come because I want you to.

[He ducks his head, biting the shell of Abbacchio's ear, and keeps working him up, bringing him as close to the edge as he can. And then, when he thinks he's right on the brink, he reaches out and gives Abbacchio's nipple a twist, the same way he'd been doing before on his own.]

Fuck--

[He chokes out a cry at the twist over tender, sensitive skin, and the way he leans back slightly forces a firmer pull on his nipple. It makes him quiver along with how Jotaro is fingerfucking him, making sure that he's enjoying himself. It's so close, and he wants it so damned bad.]

Like-- like that--

[Abbacchio tips his head back and lets out a short yell, surprised at himself at how good it feels. The constant prodding and massage against his prostate finally wins him over, and Abbacchio bucks against Jotaro, coming against him. He groans, pressing his forehead against the other man, shaking against him.

It's intense. More than any other orgasm he can remember. But then again, no one else has ever made him come like this before.]

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