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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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.]

[He bites his lip as he watches Abbacchio come, holding his breath and drinking it in through the faint steam of the shower. It's gorgeous to watch him — the way he writhes, the way he adjusts to make it better for himself, the way he's left trembling as he comes down from his high.

And Jotaro's arms are waiting to catch him when he does, gently easing his fingers out of him and moving to steady him by the hips instead, offering up his chest for support so that Abbacchio doesn't have to try to hold himself upright at all, if he doesn't want to.]

I've got you. Just ride it out.

[He's slipping, letting himself be tender when he knows Abbacchio probably doesn't want him to be, but he can't help himself. He nuzzles against Abbacchio's damp hair, offering up gentleness in his afterglow.]

You're all right. You can enjoy how you feel. I've got you.

[He isn't used to it, and it really fucking confounds him. Abbacchio almost wants to beg him to stop, except that it is nice to have that softness after everything. Shuddering, he lets himself lean more against Jotaro, slowly calming down after he's finished coming.

He debates calling him out, snapping at him. But it is nice, and there's a certain comfort in being told he can enjoy himself. Like he doesn't have to worry, he can just put himself into the care of someone else's hands.

Abbacchio sighs slowly, scratching his fingers at Jotaro's neck lightly.]

You're still a fucking softie, capo.

Yeah, well. Don't tell the people at work, it'll ruin my hardass image.

[He hums approvingly, enjoying the feeling of fingers working at the back of his neck.]

Don't bite my head off for this. But your usual partners...I'm assuming the things we're doing are a pretty significant change from what you're used to.

I can keep a secret.

[The statement makes him immediately feel like he should snap at Jotaro, tell him to mind his own business -- but he hasn't shared so much of himself in so long and that's terrifying, too.

He looks away for a moment, contemplating.]

With most people, I'm not looking for anything nice. Just a quick fuck, end of story. I don't wanna know them, they don't wanna know me. And that's fine.

[He doesn't deserve anything nice.]

If that kid didn't shoot me with the arrow, you wouldn't know my name. I wouldn't know yours. We'd be strangers and I'd move on to the next thing.

Mmm.

[He's vaguely aware that he probably just came close to getting his head bitten off, exactly as anticipated. He's pleasantly surprised that, despite all expectations, Abbacchio decided not to.]

Do you regret it? That you learned my name, and gave me yours. It's not a trick question. I really just want to know.

Yes and no.

[He won't admit it, but he feels... flighty about the softer actions. The combination of Jotaro being capable of being a piece of shit but also considerate with him is difficult.

He hasn't had anything nice since Florentino. Sometimes he wishes Jotaro would stop. Sometimes he wants him to never stop and remind him how good it can be.]

Guess I'll go with no. Most of the pros outweigh the cons.

Hm. All right.

[He pauses briefly, taking Abbacchio by the wrists one hand at a time and guiding his fingers to tangle more firmly in his damp black curls. It feels good, the movements of his fingertips and the scratch of his nails. He's allowed to want a little luxury, himself.]

For what it's worth, I enjoyed doing this for you. Focusing on you.

[The hair is interesting. Thick, dark curls, but he keeps it short and hidden under a hat. A hat with the back torn out for whatever reason. But it's... nice. So he scratches there a bit.]

Noticed that.

[Of course he picked up on it. Jotaro enjoyed having control, sure, but probably enjoyed more that he was meeting Abbacchio's needs.]

Uh. ... Thank you, for what it's worth.

Mm. Keep doing that, will you?

[He even lowers his head a bit, making it easier to reach. His eyes fall closed and his breath slows, as he basks in the pleasant feeling.]

You don't have to thank me. But you're welcome.

Shut up. I won't be that nice often, so... just accept it.

[There's a pause, and then he ultimately decides to snag the bottle of shampoo and get to lathering up Jotaro's hair. It was definitely hot, kneeling and letting Jotaro use his mouth while he did this to him, but right now from Abbacchio he's... trying. Trying to be gentler, because he does think that Jotaro probably deserves it. Even if Abbacchio is utter shit at it.]

...I wouldn't mind if you wanted to share the bed. For the record. It's not that big, though.

S'all right. You can shove me off the mattress and onto the floor.

[Oh. Hm. He'd only really been angling for some attention, but letting Abbacchio wash his hair for him suddenly sounds even better still, so he hunkers down and keeps his eyes closed to allow it.]

My daughter has nightmares sometimes, she used to make me sleep in her bed with her. So as long as you've got something bigger than a single, I can figure out how to manage.

[...A daughter.

Abbacchio pauses, then shrugs a little to himself, deciding it's not really a big deal. It's not his problem, but it makes one point clear:] Guess that explains why you don't have a daddy kink.

Bed's a full. I'm too tall for a single.

Here, tip your head back. I'll rinse it out.

Yeah. Kind of loses its appeal once you start associating "daddy" with spilled ice cream and mud puddles.

[He does as he's told, however, leaning his head back and settling himself in Abbacchio's care, his eyes still lightly closed.]

I'm not married anymore. Her mom and I divorced a year or two ago. I'm not running around on her, or anything.

Didn't think you were, but I appreciate the explanation.

[Slowly, he smooths his hands through Jotaro's hair, helping rinse out the shampoo. After a moment, he makes a grunt of affirmation, satisfied.]

She here in Morioh with you? Your daughter.

No, she's with her mom. She wanted to come with me, though. She cried and cried about it.

[He's quite possibly disclosing more than he might've otherwise, but the fingers in his hair are relaxing, and the combination of that and the sex is working wonders at loosening his lips.]

I finally told her I'd bring her to visit once I finished some business. Now, after what happened today...I'm not so sure I want her here, after all.

Probably makes sense. Nobody expected the kid with the arrow. Dunno what's around after that.

[Abbacchio wouldn't know the first thing about parenting, and has never felt like he himself would make a good dad anyway. Still, it's interesting to get this much information out of him.]

What's her name?

Jolyne. ...Like the song.

[He sighs, leaning into the shower spray and letting it run fully over his head and hair, making water cascade down his face and neck. Clearly, he's not someone afraid of getting water in his eyes. All things considered, he sort of likes the experience generally; it reminds him of swimming.]

She's a good kid. Loud. A boy pulled her pigtails on the playground and she beat him up.

[THAT'S HIS GIRL.]

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