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Sweater Weather
Title: Sweater Weather
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Diavolo, Doppio, Giorno
Pairing(s): Giorno/Doppio
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 920
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Diavolo, one of Doppio's dates, and unexpected repercussions.
Notes: Fifteen is legal in Italy, I checked. Also this is ridiculous.
Diavolo is not often in the habit of interfering with Doppio’s dates, at least not his first dates. If something important comes up, of course he won’t hesitate to give Doppio a call, but for the most part he allows Doppio to relax and spend time with another person now and again. He’s gotten very good at lying about what he does for a living.
Doppio’s age range is anywhere from men in their late twenties and early thirties to boys just a little younger than his apparent age, though he favors the older types. This time, though, he’s coming home with a boy of fifteen years of age. The teenager, Giorno, isn’t a bad pick. He’s certainly good-looking, even managing to pull off that bizarre hairstyle, and he and Doppio got along well at dinner.
That Giorno accepts Doppio’s invitation to come inside doesn’t come as a surprise. It doesn’t particularly bother Diavolo that a small handful of men know where Doppio lives, as there’s no reason for them to consider that very important afterwards. The apartment holds nothing incriminating towards them.
Diavolo watches with a sort of detachment, as Doppio awkwardly tries to make further conversation before Giorno pulls him in for a kiss. He feels every touch that Doppio does, but has no way of driving the kiss to become deeper: no way that would not rob Doppio of this experience, drive Giorno away, or both. So he watches and enjoys the sensations as they come.
Doppio splays his hands in on the skin that Giorno’s jacket leaves uncovered, an obvious weak point. Giorno returns the favor, slipping one hand through a hole in Doppio’s sweater and sliding downward before breaking the kiss for a brief moment to pull the sweater off him entirely and deposit it on the floor before nudging Doppio in the direction of his bed.
The bed is only large enough to fit two if they’re close together, but that isn’t an issue at the moment. Doppio reclines, taking off Giorno’s jacket and tossing it in the same direction. Giorno, on top of him, has one hand inside Doppio’s jeans, stroking slowly; Doppio gasps and pushes his hips toward him.
There is a small tube of lubricant on the nightstand already. Doppio likes to be prepared, and noticing that makes Giorno smile and ask, “May I be inside you?” When Doppio nods, Giorno reaches for the tube and squeezes some onto his fingers.
Doppio sheds his jeans and bites his lip as Giorno begins to stretch him. He’s at least used to this, the men he ends up with favor being the one to penetrate almost invariably. It’s always uncomfortable, but at least not too painful, and Giorno is careful not to move too quickly.
Diavolo would prefer not to be the one receiving, but there is no way to make his opinions known about this without giving away his position. Even bosses don’t have that much say about their subordinates’ sex lives.
When Giorno’s pants fall by the bedside, Doppio slicks him up, quick and efficient. Giorno spreads his legs and slowly, carefully pushes in, waiting for his whimpering to stop and breathing to settle again before he pulls out and slides in a little faster.
Doppio is always an expressive partner. When discomfort turns to pleasure his moans make it known clearly, mixed with strings of curses and gasps of Giorno’s name that prove that, at least for now, Doppio is thinking about someone other than his boss.
Diavolo might take offense to that, but it’s hard for him to focus as well, with the feeling of someone inside him. It’s harder still with Giorno’s hand giving Doppio quick strokes that match his pace. He might as well not bother trying, and simply enjoy.
Doppio has a little more to focus on than Diavolo does, trying to return the thrusts with the rock of his hips and only managing in a stuttered rhythm. His eyes are shut tight and he loses control, coming over Giorno’s hand. He’s still in aftershocks of orgasm when Giorno gives a last few thrusts and climaxes.
When afterglow has given way to awkwardness, Doppio hands Giorno a tissue box to wipe his hands off with. Giorno cleans up, chatting amiably as he redresses. Doppio is too tired to do much but nod.
“Take care,” he says, when Giorno is about to leave.
“Thank you. You too.” Then Giorno shuts the door behind him.
About a week later, the name of Giorno Giovanna reaches Doppio’s ears as a new member of Passione, under Bruno Buccellati. Doppio swears when he hears it, but reassures Diavolo on his next call, “It doesn’t matter, Boss. I’ll just not answer any of his calls, and he’ll forget.”
Diavolo believes him, even once Giorno Giovanna becomes somebody to be killed off rather than just another Passione member. Still, he’d rather not have Doppio meet Giorno face-to-face again if he doesn’t have to.
He doesn’t have to. The next time he and Giorno meet, it’s as themselves, or as close to themselves as they can get while Diavolo is possessing his daughter’s spirit and Mista’s body.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance, before you ever joined Passione,” he growls. “Or at least not let my Doppio sleep with you. You’re not even a decent lay.”
As he predicted, Giorno falters at that, giving Diavolo the perfect chance to turn and chase after Requiem.
Fifteen year olds. All the same.
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Diavolo, Doppio, Giorno
Pairing(s): Giorno/Doppio
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 920
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Diavolo, one of Doppio's dates, and unexpected repercussions.
Notes: Fifteen is legal in Italy, I checked. Also this is ridiculous.
Diavolo is not often in the habit of interfering with Doppio’s dates, at least not his first dates. If something important comes up, of course he won’t hesitate to give Doppio a call, but for the most part he allows Doppio to relax and spend time with another person now and again. He’s gotten very good at lying about what he does for a living.
Doppio’s age range is anywhere from men in their late twenties and early thirties to boys just a little younger than his apparent age, though he favors the older types. This time, though, he’s coming home with a boy of fifteen years of age. The teenager, Giorno, isn’t a bad pick. He’s certainly good-looking, even managing to pull off that bizarre hairstyle, and he and Doppio got along well at dinner.
That Giorno accepts Doppio’s invitation to come inside doesn’t come as a surprise. It doesn’t particularly bother Diavolo that a small handful of men know where Doppio lives, as there’s no reason for them to consider that very important afterwards. The apartment holds nothing incriminating towards them.
Diavolo watches with a sort of detachment, as Doppio awkwardly tries to make further conversation before Giorno pulls him in for a kiss. He feels every touch that Doppio does, but has no way of driving the kiss to become deeper: no way that would not rob Doppio of this experience, drive Giorno away, or both. So he watches and enjoys the sensations as they come.
Doppio splays his hands in on the skin that Giorno’s jacket leaves uncovered, an obvious weak point. Giorno returns the favor, slipping one hand through a hole in Doppio’s sweater and sliding downward before breaking the kiss for a brief moment to pull the sweater off him entirely and deposit it on the floor before nudging Doppio in the direction of his bed.
The bed is only large enough to fit two if they’re close together, but that isn’t an issue at the moment. Doppio reclines, taking off Giorno’s jacket and tossing it in the same direction. Giorno, on top of him, has one hand inside Doppio’s jeans, stroking slowly; Doppio gasps and pushes his hips toward him.
There is a small tube of lubricant on the nightstand already. Doppio likes to be prepared, and noticing that makes Giorno smile and ask, “May I be inside you?” When Doppio nods, Giorno reaches for the tube and squeezes some onto his fingers.
Doppio sheds his jeans and bites his lip as Giorno begins to stretch him. He’s at least used to this, the men he ends up with favor being the one to penetrate almost invariably. It’s always uncomfortable, but at least not too painful, and Giorno is careful not to move too quickly.
Diavolo would prefer not to be the one receiving, but there is no way to make his opinions known about this without giving away his position. Even bosses don’t have that much say about their subordinates’ sex lives.
When Giorno’s pants fall by the bedside, Doppio slicks him up, quick and efficient. Giorno spreads his legs and slowly, carefully pushes in, waiting for his whimpering to stop and breathing to settle again before he pulls out and slides in a little faster.
Doppio is always an expressive partner. When discomfort turns to pleasure his moans make it known clearly, mixed with strings of curses and gasps of Giorno’s name that prove that, at least for now, Doppio is thinking about someone other than his boss.
Diavolo might take offense to that, but it’s hard for him to focus as well, with the feeling of someone inside him. It’s harder still with Giorno’s hand giving Doppio quick strokes that match his pace. He might as well not bother trying, and simply enjoy.
Doppio has a little more to focus on than Diavolo does, trying to return the thrusts with the rock of his hips and only managing in a stuttered rhythm. His eyes are shut tight and he loses control, coming over Giorno’s hand. He’s still in aftershocks of orgasm when Giorno gives a last few thrusts and climaxes.
When afterglow has given way to awkwardness, Doppio hands Giorno a tissue box to wipe his hands off with. Giorno cleans up, chatting amiably as he redresses. Doppio is too tired to do much but nod.
“Take care,” he says, when Giorno is about to leave.
“Thank you. You too.” Then Giorno shuts the door behind him.
About a week later, the name of Giorno Giovanna reaches Doppio’s ears as a new member of Passione, under Bruno Buccellati. Doppio swears when he hears it, but reassures Diavolo on his next call, “It doesn’t matter, Boss. I’ll just not answer any of his calls, and he’ll forget.”
Diavolo believes him, even once Giorno Giovanna becomes somebody to be killed off rather than just another Passione member. Still, he’d rather not have Doppio meet Giorno face-to-face again if he doesn’t have to.
He doesn’t have to. The next time he and Giorno meet, it’s as themselves, or as close to themselves as they can get while Diavolo is possessing his daughter’s spirit and Mista’s body.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance, before you ever joined Passione,” he growls. “Or at least not let my Doppio sleep with you. You’re not even a decent lay.”
As he predicted, Giorno falters at that, giving Diavolo the perfect chance to turn and chase after Requiem.
Fifteen year olds. All the same.