Lovely To See You
"You want to see it, right Boss?" Giorno, Mista and Abbacchio were inside Bucciarati's favourite restaurant, Mista already twirling his fingers around a piece Giorno's braid, adding to the blonde's nervousness. He had no idea why they were here, when he tried to ask, Mista only told him that it was a surprise to celebrate him becoming the Boss of Passione.
He was expecting some kind of party, but none of the other members of his gang were anywhere to be seen. In fact, the restaurant was completely empty aside from the three of them. Giorno gulped.
"What exactly is it, that you think I want to see, Guido?" His second in command smirked, tracing fingers that were previously occupied with the golden strands of hair down to Giorno's soft flushed cheeks, one stopping on his pillowly lips.
"What THEY did here last night. I know Fugo requested to have the restaurant to himself yesterday, he seemed quite flustered while asking too. We," He gestured to Abbacchio, who had his gazed fixed on one of the tables, "want to see what happened here too."
Giorno had remembered that conversation, Fugo had come to him with a personal request. Close the restaurant for a day and keep this request a secret. He hadn't been able to look Giorno in the eyes while asking, so he had assumed it had something to do with Narancia…
"I wasn't aware that you were eves dropping on that conversation. Yes, Fugo requested that I have the restaurant closed for the day. I didn't ask why. It was not my business to. However, I'll admit that I thought maybe it was his anniversary with Narancia and he had wanted to do something special for him, since this is where they met."
Mista smiled again, a mischievous, dangerous smile. "Didn't you hear? Bucciarati had to send a clean-up team here afterwards. He wasn't happy about it but said nothing because he didn't want you to feel guilty about approving the request."
Giorno's look of confusion shifted to one of concern. Had there been an altercation at the restaurant, perhaps an attempted hit by a rival gang? Come to think of it, he hadn't seen either Fugo or Narancia today, were they alright?
Abbacchio seemed to be growing impatient, annoyed by Giorno's naivety, not picking up the hints that Mista was trying to put down. "For the love of God, can I please just show him already? I'm sure whatever it is, he'll be thanking us."
Giorno moved his lips to speak out in protest, but it was already too late. Abbacchio had already having summoned Moody Blues who was beginning a replay, shifting into a form that knocked the breath right of Giorno's lungs.
Narancia…but not just regular, already dangerously feminine Narancia. No, this form had crossed the line completely into something Giorno couldn't explain, something he defiantly knew he should not be viewing.
Narancia was wearing what could only be described as an extremely impractical maid's outfit. Giorno had never seen one in person before, but he knew from the few times he had seen it in magazines Mista liked to keep around the hideout, from the various frills, apron and impossibly short skirt, what this was meant to be.
Looking at him, Giorno felt himself questioning his sexuality for the first time, but not for the reasons you might have expect. Giorno knew liked men. Women, they annoyed him, and he just couldn't understand their appeal. Sure, some of the men he liked might have been on the more feminine side. Seeing the lace undershirt hidden beneath Bruno's suit, like some erotic present being unwrapped in front of him, during their first encounter, had definitely gotten his blood pumping.
Was this what it was? That exotic delicacy of seeing a man wearing something society deemed unfitting? You could barely call Narancia a man though…he gulped as he took note of the delicately pointed high-heels, impressed by how well balanced Narancia seemed to be in them. Had he done this before?
Those dainty shoes lead upwards to long slender legs, surprisingly female in their shape, curving at just the right places along his calves and thighs, which were covered by sheer, black stockings, held in place by garter belts. Just looking at those legs made Giorno's blood gather in a hot pool in his abdomen, dipping lower as his eyes traced up higher.
Narancia was desperately trying to keep his skirt from riding up, the lacy hem just barely covering the tops of his thighs. Abbacchio had long since paused the replay so they could all get a better look at him, his beautifully girlish face flushed red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. Judging by the way the skirt and top half of the costume clung to Narancia's form, highlighting the delicious curve in his hips and hourglass shaped dip in his abdomen, they could only assume that this dangerous getup was something Fugo had custom made.
Mista moved towards the form that Moody Blues had shifted into, gesturing at Giorno to follow. Abbacchio was already examining it up close, nodding with approval. Mista reached out his hands greedily, aiming for the skirt.
Shooting him a dirty look, Abbacchio slapped his hands away. "Its my Stand, so I'm the one who gets to do it. Unless you want to, Boss." Giorno still couldn't speak, his throat dry, still trying to process what he was seeing, he simply shook his head, eyes glued to the sight in front of him.
In one swift movement, Abbacchio flipped the skirt up from behind, exposing the treasure beneath. Orange and white striped panties clung tightly to Narancia's unexpectedly sumptuous derriere. It wasn't overly voluptuous by any means, having just the right amount of fat to offset the muscle, creating a pleasing curve, yet it was not flat either, as might be implied by how it was usually hidden behind his square orange skirt.
"Ah fuck, no wonder Fugo is so God damn possessive, look at how fucking tight that is." Mista seemed to be fighting against the urg to palm himself over his pants, them already seeming more restrictive than usual…
"Calm down, we haven't even seen the front yet. How much do you want to bet Narancia enjoys dressing up like this? As if his regular gear wasn't enough of a hint." Abbacchio moved around to the front, gently lifting the tightly clasped hands that were digging into the flesh of the replay's thighs, trying to extend the length of the skirt by any means possible.
Whoosh up it went. Leone was right. Whether it be from embarrassment or secret enjoyment, a bulge was clearly pressed out against the soft cotton fabric of the appealingly stripped underwear, a damp patch forming at the peak.
Giorno knew this was wrong. He could have anyone in the organisation he wanted, they would all do anything for him, if he asked. He could have easily demand that Fugo and Narancia allow him to be a part of their activities if he felt like it, but he respected their friendship, and their relationship with each other too much for that.
Fugo genuinely cared for Narancia, to him, he was his entire world. Giorno had first figured this out during Narancia's battle with Formaggio. Narancia had taken longer than expected to return from what was meant to be a simple shopping trip, resulting in Fugo breaking down into a panicky mess, nervously rubbing the points of his fists where Purple Haze's capsules would have been. He had kept repeating the same thing, to the point where Abbacchio had to step in to try and calm him down.
That didn't matter now. This wasn't really Narancia, so there was no real betrayal, at least that's what Giorno told himself. There was an ache in him that needed to be satisfied, now. He's companions seemed to be in an even worse position than him, Giorno being practically able to smell their arousal. They wouldn't dare do anything about it though, not until he gave the command.
Grabbing the chair in front of him, Giorno pulled it out sharply, its legs making a harsh scraping sound as he moved it into a more favourable position. Looking directly at Mista, he spoke, voice steady with determination, "Sit." It was not a request.
The gunman happily complied, knowing what to expect. Giorno had a side to him that those close to him knew well. He tried his best not to show it, to be a respectable, professional mob boss, but…There was something about public places that seemed to set Giorno off. Perhaps it was the risk, the danger. Mista couldn't count how many times they had defiled park benches together.
The curtains of the restaurant where closed, making it more private than their usual spots, thankfully. If Fugo were to for some reason walk by and see what they were doing…Mista didn't want to think about that, focusing instead on the gorgeous blonde boy in front of him, already dipping down to his knees.
Giorno was tracing over the front of Mista's pants with his delicate fingers, making the older man squirm, he hated when he teased like this. "You're already so hard, just from looking at him…"
Mista wasn't sure how to respond, he part of him knew Giorno wasn't upset, but he was his boss, so he had to be careful. Giorno smirked, sensing his partner's unease. "Relax. I'm not jealous. In fact,…the only thing I care about now is having your cock in my mouth."
Giorno unzipped the front of Mista's pants deliberately slowly, enjoying the sound it made. A strange kink he picked up from Bruno. Mista's boxers were strained almost impossibly, his member growing steadily harder as Giorno refused to take his eyes off him, taking the hem of his underwear in his mouth and rolling them down.
Giorno breathed in Mista's heavy musk, pressing his face into the coarse, dark bush of his pubes. He moved away somewhat after a moment, signalling to Abbacchio to move towards him before he began to trail up the base of Mista's shaft with his tongue, coating every inch of it with his salvia, before stopping at the head, smiling as he saw the globule of precum dribble down the slit.
"Mista, you better not blow your load before you've even seen the whole show." Leone growled, his annoyance showed at being kept waiting up until now. He wasted no time, grabbing Giorno harshly by his hips, one hand wrapping around the undo the belt keeping the bottom half of his suit in place.
"Can you see it alright from there, Abbacchio?" Giorno lifted himself higher, his back arched so that his backside was aligned with Abbachio's groin. Leone grunted in conformation, his head turned slightly so that he could still view his Stand, paused in the same position as before, the skirt having fluttered down again.
He yanked Giorno's suit pants down, removing a bottle of liquid and a small square foil package from his back pocket as he did so. "I'm going to restart the replay." Giorno lifted his head up from Mista's crotch, curious as to what would happen next.
"All this, because I failed some stupid maths test? What the fuck Fugo!?" It was Narancia's voice, he was fuming, overcome with a mix of embarrassment and rage as he desperately tried to cover his front. Moody Blues could only replay one person, one voice though, so the chair in which he had directed his anger towards was empty.
"Punishment? You want me to serve you, is that right? Jeez Fugo, it's bad enough when you do this at home…" He had looked away from the chair now, his glance aimed at the floor as he rage slowly gave way to further abashment. "You want me to come to you? Huh, then I'll come alright…"
He was trying to act smug now, but as he approached, the cracks started to show. He moved slowly, not because of the heels, no, he was surprisingly adept in those. Narancia still seemed to be trying to hide his physical condition from Fugo, an almost impossible task as the front of his skirt seemed to be being pushed up by something.
Whatever restraint Narancia seemed to be holding on to shattered as he squatted over the empty chair, Fugo's physical absence allowing the others to see clearly as the orange and white panties slide down off one of Narancia's long, curvaceous legs.
He must have been positioned in Fugo's lap, as he squirmed, eyes beginning to grow wet as something seemed to press against his entrance, Giorno and the other onlookers clearly seeing the indentation as it happened. "I'm not like this because of the costume, you pervert! It's because you're looking at me like that. It's too much, just get on with it, please."
Giorno gasped as he felt something slick and rubbery against his own. He must have been too enthralled by the spectacle he was witnessing to notice, but while in the process of watching Fugo and Narancia's engagement, Abbacchio had pulled down Giorno's boxers as well. Giorno looked at him, almost disappointed at his decision to use protection.
Leone looked apologetic. "Believe me, I want nothing more than to coat your insides completely, but if we make a mess, Bruno will kill us." He reached out to Giorno's shaft, slipping a condom over it as well. "You better cover Mista with your mouth, soon, he doesn't look like his faring too well."
Giorno noted how Mista's manhood seemed to be twitching, just from watching, "Just a little longer, hang in there…"
Thankfully, Fugo, or what would have been Fugo, seemed to have complied with the replay's desperate request. Narancia crying out as that parting widened. Soon, he had began to bounce on that invisible member, forgetting that they were where they were, knuckles clasped white as they gripped onto absent shoulders.
Giorno slipped his mouth over Mista's cock, taking him in slowly until he was completely enveloped in the slick hot vacuum that was Giorno's oral cavity, reaching all the way back to his throat. He never did seem to have had any sort of gag reflex, gently bobbing as his tongue slicked around, searching for the parts that elicited the most throbs.
At the same time, he felt himself being deliciously stretched as Abbacchio pushed into him. His tightness around Abbacchio's member clamping down almost impossibly hard, causing Abbacchio to take a sharp breath. "Christ, Boss, you're too good. I still bet I'll last longer than that quick shot though."
Abbacchio slammed into Giorno's prostate hard, the sensation of being so harshly moved around it, so full with rough movements made Giorno gurgle a muffled cry onto Mista's member, almost sending him completely spiralling over the edge.
Giorno loved it, the feeling of having both his holes filled by two men he had such a close connection to. He appreciated how honest men were, when experiencing pleasure like this. Narancia's erotic cries were the only thing he could experience from his position, but they helped completely the sensory euphoria he was indulged in.
Tasting and smelling Mista heady musk, so raw and masculine, would mix well with the sharp bitter taste of cum he felt was not far off. His eyes were closed, afraid that visuals might distract from the wonderful sharp build of heat gathering from having his prostrate harshly smashed into, complimented by a delectable wet smacking sound as Abbacchio's thrusts grew more fevered.
Finally, he felt himself peaking as the familiar sensation of hot liquid rushing into the back of his throat overtook him. He gargled on it against the base of Mista's shaft as he cried out in orgasm, the throbbing of his own member as he gushed out into the condom causes his eyes to roll back into his head.
Abbacchio continued to pound into him relentlessly for a few more moments before Giorno could feel something warm swell within him. Looking up, he could see Narancia, breathing deeply, his chest heaving as he seemed to be taken in by post orgasm bless. His thighs were slicked with a translucent liquid that had similarly ruined the front of the maid's outfit he was wearing. Just that, might have been enough for Giorno to get hard again. He understood now, why Bucciarati had to call in the cleaners as some of it dripped onto the floor and pooled onto the chair beneath Narancia.
Abbacchio, having returned from disposing the things that prevented themselves from making even more of mess, dismissed Moody Blues, the form of Narancia shifting and fading out of existence.
"Aren't you happy we brought you here now, Boss?" Mista smirked as he zipped himself up. Giorno didn't respond right away, taking a moment to steady his very shaky legs, his body filled with a pleasant ache.
"Ecstatic. I'll have to make a note of this use of Moody Blues' abilities, if you'll allow it, Leone."