Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8103082.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Dio_Brando/Enrico_Pucci
  Character:
      Dio_Brando, Enrico_Pucci
  Series:
      Part 4 of #DioPucciWeek
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-21 Words: 5080
****** On The Road ******
by conceptofzero
Summary
     So far, Pucci’s kept quiet and been content to simply experience
     things as they came. But when Dio pours a glass of wine for Pucci, he
     can’t help but comment on it. “I feel as if you’ve missed the spirit
     of the road trip.”
Notes
     For #DioPucciWeek on Tumblr! Prompt #4 was "Long Distance".
So far, Pucci’s kept quiet and been content to simply experience things as they
came. But when Dio pours a glass of wine for Pucci, he can’t help but comment
on it. “I feel as if you’ve missed the spirit of the road trip.”
“I hardly see how. We are traveling on a road with a particular destination in
mind. By all definitions that is a ‘road trip’.” Dio passes the glass of wine
to Pucci and pours himself one as well, setting the bottle into the chilled
holder. “Or do you believe that there is something beyond that definition,
something that is lacking here?”
Pucci glances around the inside of the limousine. The seats are plush and
comfortable, the music soft and the windows tinted a black so dark that no
light comes in at all. Consequently, Pucci has no idea where they are right
now, only that they stopped once about two hours ago to let Pucci take a
washroom break. It had been overcast then and they had stopped at a hotel
rather than the gas stations Pucci expected. Not that he was complaining about
getting to use a clean washroom, but…
“The opposite. There’s not enough lacking.” He toes his shoes off and tucks his
legs under himself, sipping from his glass. The wine is good and the company is
better, but the fact remains: this isn’t quite a road trip. “Road trips tend to
be characterized by comradery in spite of discomfort and dire circumstances.
Eating from strange and seedy restaurants, or eating only items you can buy at
a convenience store. Crammed in a car with no ability to stretch out for hours
at a time. Strange bathrooms, or no bathrooms, and switching between the driver
and the passenger seat. Stealing sleep in the backseat, stuff like that.”
“I had no idea you were an expert.” Dio lets his eyes glide around the limo,
raising an eyebrow to Pucci when he’s done reviewing the carpeted interior.
“You would prefer we were all tucked in something with less room than a
refrigerator box?”
“I didn’t say that. I quite like the limo. It’s nice having space and a little
privacy.” The driver’s partition is particularly nice, keeping them separated
from Dio’s usual travel entourage. “But it’s not really a road trip. I’m not an
expert, I’ve only been on day trips with the youth ministry before, but it had
more of those factors - changing drivers, eating poorly, that sort of thing.”
“Did it have wine?” Dio prompts and when Pucci laughs and shakes his head no,
Dio moves from his place on the opposite seat, shifting over to join Pucci.
“Did it have anyone like me?”
“Oh God, of course not. It was a youth ministry meetup. If anyone like you was
there, they would have thrown holy water at them.” Pucci rests his free hand on
Dio’s bare chest, letting his hand idly sit there. “I hate to think what you
might do in that hotbed of guilt and sexual frustration.”
The way Dio’s eyes glint says that he knows exactly what he would do. He leans
in and presses his mouth to Pucci’s jaw, his teeth scraping over the skin
there. “You would enjoy watching me speak with them. You would enjoy watching
me do much more.”
“I would want to be very, very far away.” Pucci insists, though a part of him
would like to see Dio simply exist in the same space as the priests and other
faithful men he was forced to spend time with over the past years. For every
man who truly was faithful, there were a dozen that were base liars, faithless
and corrupt, using faith as a shield for their own twisted beliefs. What would
they do if faced with Dio - with proof of grace and glory in a form that seemed
ungodly?
It was easy to imagine the kind of terror that would overtake some of them. And
it was easier still to imagine the lust. It would be a delight to see them
wrestle with it and fail to hold it off. Dio was beyond all others, a man of
fate and extraordinary circumstances. Pucci knows most would fail to recognize
him for what he truly was and would insist he was a monster of some kind.
While Dio gently mouths at Pucci’s neck, he draws Pucci closer to him, running
his palms over those clothed curves. It’s always a little remarkable how gentle
Dio can be when he wishes to. Pucci’s seen his brute strength in action, but
he’s never felt it applied to him.
Pucci’s content to let Dio do as he likes, though he does click his tongue a
little when Dio gets his hands around Pucci’s hips and yanks him up, dragging
him into Dio’s lap. “Don’t spill the wine.”
“I thought you wanted this to be a real road trip. Scavenged meals. Tight
spaces. Sleeping in the backseat.” Dio turns Pucci’s words against him
effortlessly. It’s infuriating but it still gets a laugh from Pucci.
“As if we need a road trip as an excuse for that.” Pucci leans away, looking
for somewhere to set his glass so it doesn’t end up everywhere else. There are
drink holders, but they’re more for cups than a wine glass and Pucci sighs. He
stays tipped back on Dio’s knees. “Wait for me to finish my drink.”
Dio just smirks and Pucci realizes too late that he’s all but issued a
challenge. His murmured, “Of course” is far more threatening than any display
of violence ever could be. Pucci has to keep a tight grip on his glass as Dio
settles him back down on the seat and then sinks down to his knees.
There will never be a moment in his life when Pucci isn’t a little in awe of
this - of Dio kneeling before him, both yielding and not yielding in the same
moment. Pucci’s free hand ends up settled in Dio’s hair, brushing through it
and over it as Dio promptly buries his face into Pucci’s crotch. He’s really
glad he has a tight grip on his glass then.
Even with his pants in the way, it’s impossible to ignore Dio’s mouth as it
moves over his cock, lips and teeth pressing down against him with just the
right amount of pressure. He sighs and he cards his fingers through Dio’s hair,
twisting strands of it around his hand. “Dio…”
“You wanted something in the spirit of a real road trip. You can hardly tell me
that no one has ever done this in the backseat of a car while the others were
unaware.” Dio coaxes Pucci to lift his hips, easily working his pants down to
his knees. The seat underneath his bare ass is soft and a little warm. Pucci’s
eyes glance over at the divider between them and the front of the car. It isn’t
soundproof. If he’s loud, they’ll be heard and Pucci isn’t sure who’s in the
driver’s seat right now. Vanilla Ice? Telence? Or one of the others? There have
been others back here with them before when Dio felt like company, but they’ve
all be sent away, exiled to a separate car somewhere. The limo stops now and
then for gas and supplies, but also to trade drivers so someone well-rested it
always at the wheel. Pucci hasn’t paid much attention to that before now since
it hardly seemed to matter, but because of that, he doesn’t know who’s with
them now. Which of Dio’s trusted servants is about to hear Pucci get a blowjob
in the back of the limo?
His speculation is cut short as Dio’s mouth returns to his cock. This time,
there’s nothing to separate himself from Dio’s lips or breath and Pucci bites
his lip, trying to hold back his startled sound as Dio’s tongue runs along the
length of Pucci’s shaft. Dio lavishes attention on Pucci and Pucci can’t help
but shiver as he watches, trying to memorize every move and action. On occasion
when Pucci’s given head, he’s always felt as if he looked silly on his knees.
Dio never looks silly. Every action is deliberate, his mouth so wet and lush
looking as Dio parts his lips and spreads his tongue over the surface of
Pucci’s shaft. He licks, and then he sucks, taking the head of Pucci’s cock
into his mouth and sucking on it until Pucci’s red in the face.
The wine is nearly forgotten. Pucci’s eyes can only focus on Dio right now.
Everything else slips away - the rumble of the engine, the motion of the
vehicle, the presence of anyone else. There’s just Dio right now, just Dio and
his mouth as it slowly works down Pucci’s shaft. It feels so good, but it
always does. Dio knows exactly what to do to make Pucci whine softly or gasp,
and he’s doing exactly that. He sucks until the pressure is too much for Pucci
and he’s yanking on Dio’s hair rougher than he means to, dragging in a
desperate breath. “Dio, please, l-let me adjust.”
Dio drags his mouth up, not letting up on the suction until the head of Pucci’s
cock pops out from between his lips. And even then, he stays near, his green
lips pressed against Pucci and gently mouthing against the sensitive flesh as
he speaks. “Hmm? We’ve only started, Pucci. Is it already too much?”
“Let me adjust,” Pucci insists. Dio smirks, his tongue peeking between his
lips. It’s so pink and even before it touches Pucci’s cock, he’s already
unbearably hot. Dio’s tongue is soft and it swipes around the outside of the
head, teasing Pucci effortlessly before Dio’s mouth follows and sinks down on
him again, taking Pucci’s cock all the way to the root. He doesn’t suck like
before, but he doesn’t let up either, holding Pucci in his throat and exploring
him with his tongue. Pucci digs his fingers into Dio’s hair, shoving them
against his scalp as Pucci barely manages to bite back the sounds threatening
to leak out of him. “Dio… God, Dio, you’re amazing.”
The way Dio’s eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement makes it clear that he
knows exactly how amazing he is. But even as Pucci starts to adjust to the
sensation of Dio’s mouth, Dio gives him one last lavish suck and lifts his
head, both his hands gripping Pucci’s thighs. “You should finish your wine now.
Or else go hand it to Vanilla.”
Pucci’s eyes go to the divider. He tries to imagine that, rolling the divider
down and handing his wine up to the front, giving the glass to Vanilla Ice and
confirming what he knows they must suspect is happening in the back.
He tips it back instead, draining the rest of his glass.
As soon as the bulk of it is down his throat, Dio gives a hard tug on Pucci’s
hips and yanks him forward. Pucci barely manages to keep from dropping the
glass as he’s scooted forward, then shoved sideways, until he’s mostly reclined
on the seat. Pucci starts to sit up, stopping only once he sees Dio rise and
finish undressing. He’s-
Oh. Oh God…
Pucci makes himself set the glass down, watching as Dio - naked and glorious -
easily settles himself over Pucci, his knees pressing on either side of Pucci’s
hips. His ass settles against Pucci’s cock, holding himself just above it.
Pucci grabs onto Dio’s knees and his heart pounds in his chest. They’ve never
done this before. Twice now, he’s had Dio inside of him, but most of the time,
they do other things - touching, kissing, licking, mouths and hands and thighs.
It’s not that Pucci’s opposed to penetration, but-
It just never seems to go this far. They always end up talking and touching one
another, the event more casual than planned for. But the way Dio holds himself
steady, it’s very clear that penetration is something he’s very familiar with.
Pucci licks his lips and his fingers dig into Dio’s thigh. He knows the
mechanics of what they’re doing, but he knows them as he knows the mechanics of
composing a song or of building an engine - in theory only.
“Nervous?” Dio teases. He must be able to hear Pucci’s heart racing at a
million miles an hour. But despite his obvious physical tells, Pucci steels
himself. He squeezes Dio’s legs, feeling how strong he is and shakes his head
no. Dio just seems amused, his smirk growing wider as one hand seizes Pucci’s
cock and holds him steady. The last time they did this, they took a long time
to open Pucci up, Dio using his mouth to eat Pucci out until he was so slick
that he barely felt Dio push in, though he had still felt every last inch of
Dio by the time he had managed to bury himself in Pucci.
But there’s only a little spit on Pucci’s cock and he worries, wondering if
they need real lube. “Is it going to be enough? Should we get more?”
“Your concern is touching, Pucci. But completely unnecessary. I know my own
limits, and you will be well within them.” Dio rests the head of Pucci’s cock
against his entrance. He slowly lowers himself on Pucci, just letting him press
against Dio without enough pressure to push in. Pucci bites at his lip and
feels the anticipation build as Dio’s weight slowly lowers, as the pressing
grows more insistent-
And like that, the head pops inside and Pucci lets out a shocked moan. Dio’s so
tight. It’s like his mouth, and at the same time, it’s nothing like the suction
from a blowjob. The way Dio squeezes around him is like nothing else and
Pucci’s hips hitch up and then also try to pull away when it gets tighter,
shoving flush against the seat. Pucci throws an arm over his face and hides his
eyes as his body tries to get used to this new sensation.
Dio continues. The way he was teasing falls to the wayside as Dio focuses on
sliding himself down on Pucci. His legs shift out and his hips sink down,
taking in Pucci inch by inch. Pucci can barely breathe, feeling like such an
idiot for not expecting this to be so overwhelming, and yet also praying that
Dio doesn’t stop. It feels so good, so amazingly good, and he’s pinned to the
seat as Dio fits the bulk of Pucci’s erection in him without seemingly any
trouble.
The only indication that he’s done comes with Dio’s weight rests on Pucci and
he lets out a content sigh. Pucci lifts his arm enough to peek out at Dio and
see him straddling Pucci. Dio’s cock is hard, jutting from a dark thatch of
pubic hair. Pucci can’t see himself, not until Dio lifts his hips and then like
a magic trick, Pucci’s shaft appears where Dio was. There he is. And there he
goes, swallowed by Dio’s ass when Dio drops down again. Pucci moans, no longer
able to care if anyone hears them, and the hand on Dio’s knee is shoved further
north to grope at his thigh.
He wants to say something. Pucci wants to tell Dio how it feels, which is
unlike anything else. The closest it comes is to the blowjob, but even then
it’s not the same. Dio’s mouth was wet and insistent, but the pressure hasn’t
been equally spread on either side of him. This squeezes from all angles and
the deeper he slides, the tighter Dio gets. Pucci’s back arches against the
seat as his hips remain pinned underneath Dio’s bulk. It feels so good… God, he
feels so good.
“Dio-” Pucci manages a name but that’s all. It’s not enough. It’s doesn’t
convey how unexpected this is. It doesn’t explain how it feels to let his eyes
slide up over Dio’s body, to watch as Dio rides Pucci with ease. He’s always
beautiful, as if he’s one of Pygmalion’s statues that was misplaced and
forgotten about until someone breathed life into him, and he’s even more
stunning to look at when he’s straddling Pucci, rocking down on his cock. Pucci
squeezes Dio’s thigh, unsure of where to even put his hands or what to do
except hold onto him, and to muffle his louder moans against the crook of his
arm.
“Do you want to know how you feel, Pucci?” Meanwhile, Dio has no trouble
speaking at all. His voice is steady, his body upright and unflinching as his
hips rock back and forth on Pucci’s cock. “You compliment my tastes
wonderfully. You have no reason to be so shy. Show me your face. Let me see the
way your mouth trembles when I take you deep.”
Pucci reluctantly drops his arm, and he reaches forward, setting his hand on
Dio’s hip. He’s aware of his lower lip moving and he quickly seizes it between
his teeth, holding it steady. That just gets a larger smirk from Dio, and then
he squeezes tight and Pucci cries out loudly, flushing a deep red immediately
afterwards. There’s no way that wasn’t heard. Whoever’s in the front seat knows
for certain what’s happening in the back now.
“Very good Pucci. That’s what I like to hear.” His hands rest on Pucci’s
sweater, taking hold of the hem and shoving it up until it bunches beneath
Pucci’s armpits. Dio runs his hands along Pucci’s chest, stroking over his ribs
and pinching his nipples, seeking out a sharp gasp from Pucci. It feels so
good. It’s unfair. And Pucci knows that he can’t last long enough to get Dio
off this way.
His hand heads for Dio’s cock, aiming to stroke him, but Dio easily catches
Pucci’s wrist. He holds Pucci’s hand to the side, his grip gentle but
impossible to break as Dio continues to fuck himself on Pucci’s cock. Pucci’s
fingers flex and he nearly reaches with the other, only stilling the motion
when he sees Dio’s other hand get ready. “Let me help you. Dio, please. I
won’t- I can’t last long enough for you.”
“You can, and you will. Try and come.” Dio dares him and Pucci narrows his
eyes. Oh God, what’s Dio up to now? Pucci’s hips want to shove up and fuck Dio,
but he can barely do more than lift himself half an inch before Dio comes down
and pins Pucci right back to the seat. Dio squeezes tight again and as Pucci
moans, he smiles and rocks against him, harder and harder.
Pucci can feel his orgasm building and no matter how he tries to hold it off,
he can’t. He’s going to come. He’s going to come and Dio will be left wanting.
Pucci turns his face to the side and his hand tugs against Dio’s grip again.
“Dio, please, let me help. I’m-”
He’s coming. Pucci’s eyes squeeze shut. But in the moment he feels his body
start to coast along the edge, he suddenly finds himself unable to. There’s the
sense of pressure and the need, but his body can’t do it. Pucci gasps and his
eyes jerk open to see what Dio’s done.
Too quickly for Pucci to feel - and knowing Dio, it was between the seconds of
the clock - he lifted himself off of Pucci and wrapped a hand around the base
of his cock. Dio’s squeezing him tight and that should be enough to make him
come, but it’s stopped him from doing so instead. No matter how his hips shove
up or how Pucci shoves forward, nothing happens other than a few sad dribbles
that run down his shaft. The sensation turns from anticipatory pleasure to a
dull, aching pain.
Dio just waits until Pucci’s body stops wrenching forward before he takes his
hand off of Pucci’s cock, settling himself right back on Pucci’s erection
again. “As I said. You can. You will.” And he grinds down on Pucci, and all he
can do is writhe, his cock already hard and desperate.
Twice, Dio fucks him to the edge and twice, Dio uses his time-stop to ruin
Pucci’s orgasm and back him down again. He’s never done anything like this in
all his life and Pucci is a mess, his face red and sweaty and his chest heaving
as he sucks in air. His pelvis aches with need, his balls cramping with a
desperate desire to come, to just come and be relieved. Both of Pucci’s wrists
are in Dio’s grip, one hand easily holding them both above Pucci’s chest where
he can’t reach Dio’s cock or even Pucci’s own body. And Dio seems no closer to
the edge, still rocking down on Pucci and grinding against him, taking Pucci in
as deep as he can possibly go.
“Please, Dio, please- Please, God, let me- Please let me come, please- let me-
let me help you come,” He’s been begging for a while now. Pucci no longer cares
who hears him. He doesn’t care what he has to say. He doesn’t care if he has to
renounce God Himself, just so long as Dio lets him come. Each time he ruins
Pucci’s orgasm, it hurts and it drives him insane and makes him want Dio so
much more.
Dio just chuckles to himself. His free hand runs over Pucci’s body, tweaking
his nipples and roaming over his chest. “You should see how beautiful you look
right now with your body flush with blood.” Dio gropes at Pucci’s body, his
hand squeezing along Pucci’s sides as his fingers roam across his torso. His
thighs are squeezing tight around Pucci, his knees digging into Pucci’s sides
as he fucks himself so steadily on Pucci’s cock.
And all Pucci can do is try to last like Dio wants, and to try withstand the
constant ruined orgasms. His hands grasp at thin air and he arches when Dio
squeezes around him tight enough to make Pucci start to cry. His eyes are wet
and his face is burning up, feeling like he’ll die the next time Dio stops his
orgasm. “Dio please, let me touch you, let me suck you, let me do- let me do
anything you want, anything, anything you want, I promise, I swear to God,
Dio!”
Dio’s eyes are fixed on Pucci’s face. He lowers himself down all the way,
bottoming out and taking Pucci in as deep as he physically can. Dio’s hips rock
backwards and forward, grinding away on Pucci. “Swear to me.”
Pucci doesn’t hesitate. He’s crying out the moment Dio asks it of him, his body
wracked with the desire to come and the pressure building up once more. “I
swear to you, I swear to you Dio!”
His lips part and Dio smiles down at Pucci, showing all his teeth. No one has
ever been so handsome. He looks just like an angel, even though he’s being a
devil through and through right now. Pucci feels it become unbearable and his
body is shaking as he’s prepared to have his orgasm shut down yet again.
But this time, Dio just grinds way and his hand lets go of Pucci, releasing his
wrists. Pucci can’t think straight but his gets his hands on Dio immediately,
fumbling with his cock. He wraps both hands around Dio’s shaft and strokes him
desperate and hard, his hips trying futilely to shove up into Dio. His cock is
so hard and Pucci’s thighs are cramping up and it hurts, it hurts, but all he
can do is focus on just coming, please God, please Dio, let him come-
Dio squeezes and Pucci just howls as he finally comes, getting the release that
Dio’s denied him before. His mind is blank, every conscious thought replaced by
the overwhelming might of his orgasm and the end to the pain in his balls.
Every part of him feels warm and melty, the sensation rushing out of his groin
and flooding the rest of his both, and he can’t even manage to touch Dio when
he’s like this, his fingers scrabbling at Dio’s thighs. Pucci’s eyes close and
he feels his lungs burn as he forgets how to breathe in. Jesus Christ. God. Dio
is still so tight around Pucci, squeezing every last drop of cum out of him and
straight into Dio.
Only when Dio finally lifts himself off of Pucci does he manage to open his
eyes again, looking up dully at Dio. He looms over Pucci and with a sly look,
he tips his hips forward and sets one hand on his ass, pulling a cheek to the
side. Pucci looks at Dio then and though he’s already flushed and he’s moaned
so loudly that even passing motorists must have heard them, he still finds it
in him to groan as a few drops of cum leak out of him and hit Pucci’s stomach.
That’s him. That’s what Pucci left behind. My God… It’s more attractive than it
has any right to be.
His hands reach out again, grabbing onto Dio’s thighs and dragging him forward.
Dio does so, settling his knees on either side of Pucci’s head. Pucci takes Dio
into his mouth and sucks on him as best as he can from this angle. He keeps
waiting for Dio to start thrusting down, but he doesn’t. He just rests his cock
against Pucci’s tongue and lets Pucci do all the heavy lifting.
After everything that he’s been through, Pucci can’t do much except keep his
mouth open and ready, and to suck on the head and part of the shaft. He wants
to take Dio all the way in but he doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he simply
stays where he’s lying, his mouth bobbing up and down a little on Dio’s cock,
but never pushing himself too hard to too deep. Instead, he does his best to
give Dio a warm and wet place to fuck, welcoming him in.
“Good, Pucci. Very good. You can always be relied on.” Dio’s voice is still
rock steady, low and methodical, as if this is nothing more than a
conversation. But Pucci can taste how wet Dio’s cock is and he can feel the
cock twitch against his tongue. Dio’s close. Pucci simply needs to push harder,
and he does. Dio seems pleased, setting a hand on Pucci’s head and stroking his
fingers along the edges of Pucci’s hair. “When these distractions pass and the
world is mine, you will be mine to have as I see fit. Every morning and every
evening, your mouth and your cock and your ass, all mine to do with as I see
fit.”
Pucci’s face burns but he nods, sucking on Dio anyway. He wants to be possessed
by him. Pucci wants Dio’s respect of course, and he wants to stand with him as
equals, but sometimes what he really wants is this - to put his mouth to work
giving the highest of praises to Dio.
Dio’s smirk drops a little and in the moment that Dio’s hips themselves start
to twitch, Pucci drags his head up and sinks his mouth down on Dio as far as he
can go. It’s not very deep, a little over halfway if he’s honest, but it’s
enough. It’s what Dio needs. His hand squeezes and his cock jumps, and then
Pucci feels it fill his mouth, cold cum. He tries not to gag and he makes
himself swallow it down, his eyes locked straight onto Dio.
He doesn’t look away and neither does Dio, who watches every last second. When
the worst of it is gone, he pulls his cock out and paints Pucci’s bottom lip
with one last strip, the rest of Dio’s heavy load resting in Pucci’s mouth. He
doesn’t know if he can swallow it without gagging, and just as he tries to
think of how to get rid of his mouthful, Dio moves so quickly. He stretches out
on top of Pucci and kisses him hard, his tongue pressing into Pucci’s mouth.
Dio swipes at the cum there - at his cum in Pucci’s mouth, and Pucci swallows
out of sheer shock when he feels Dio’s tongue press against his one, right
through his cum. He coughs when he swallows, and Dio lets him catch his breath
before he kisses Pucci again, his larger body easily enclosing Pucci underneath
him.
Pucci wraps an arm around Dio’s neck and he can’t get over it. He just fucked
Dio - though, maybe it would be more fair to say that Dio fucked himself using
Pucci - and he let Dio come in his mouth. And they did all of that with an
audience listening in. Pucci knows there’s no darker shade of red he could
turn, but he feels like somehow he must, like he digs deeper and finds that
they haven’t hit bedrock just yet.
Dio finally lifts himself a little, just enough to give Pucci enough space to
breathe. He raises an eyebrow to Pucci. “Was that accurate enough for your
tastes? Or was something else lacking?”
Pucci just laughs and buries his head against Dio’s shoulder. “No, nothing was
lacking. It was perfect, Dio…”
Dio gives Pucci another long, lingering kiss before he gets up and shifts
himself off of Pucci. But it’s only a momentary relief, as Dio fetches the wine
bottle and fills glasses up for both of them - fresh glasses, as if Pucci
doesn’t already have a wine glass gently rolling around the bottom of the limo.
Pucci sits up and gets his clothes back in order, tugging his shirt down and
his pants up, while Dio continues to lounge naked.
“To Heaven. And to our ‘road trip’ through America.” Dio offers a toast. Pucci
can’t help but chuckle a little to himself, but he still connects their glasses
together.
“To Heaven, and to an authentic experience.” Pucci agrees, though the latter
half is perhaps a little sarcastic. Dio doesn’t seem to mind, simply shifting
Pucci closer to him and resting an arm around his shoulders. This is hardly
what road trips are meant to be, but then, why would they ever be anything
reflecting a ‘normal’ state of affairs. Dio is never ordinary. That’s what drew
Pucci to him.
That’s what will keep them devoted, when things go wrong. Pucci sips his wine
and feels blessed.
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