Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7325638.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, 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, Vanilla_Ice_(Jojo)
  Additional Tags:
      Somnophilia, Necrophilia, depending_on_if_you_count_sex_with_a_sleeping
      vampire_as_necro
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-28 Completed: 2016-11-28 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 12201
****** Satin In A Coffin ******
by conceptofzero
Summary
     It starts as simple fascination. Pucci discovers that though Vanilla
     Ice guards the way to the third floor, he can still be slipped
     around. His guard pattern is methodical as it is predictable and
     Pucci simply waits until he sweeps the first floor before he heads
     upstairs, bare feet silently padding over the stone steps.
     The first time, he comes just to prove that he can do it at all. He
     plans on leaving soon after, smug with the knowledge that he had so
     easily slipped by Vanilla Ice. But he's tempted to push the coffin
     lid aside just slightly, just to see what Dio looks like inside of
     it. Does he transform into something horrible? Is there a bat-faced
     creature in there? Or will he lie like Dracula on silks, face pale
     white and eyes open and unseeing.
***** Chapter 1 *****
It starts as simple fascination. Pucci discovers that though Vanilla Ice guards
the way to the third floor, he can still be slipped around. His guard pattern
is methodical as it is predictable and Pucci simply waits until he sweeps the
first floor before he heads upstairs, bare feet silently padding over the stone
steps. He doesn’t mean to hide it, but he knows he has to or else they’ll all
get the wrong idea about this. Vanilla Ice is paranoid and he doubts the
commitment of others. Pucci knows he doesn’t do himself any favours with the
way he smirks and jokes, but even the disciples drank and joked with Christ. It
didn’t mean they loved him any less.
Even Judas the betrayer loved Christ, though he doesn’t dare breathe a word of
that to Vanilla Ice. He wouldn’t understand, he would just assume the worst.
But Pucci isn’t here to take anything from Dio. He doesn’t want the world, or
the World, and he doesn’t want to kill Dio, and he doesn’t need anything he
hasn’t already been given. All he wants is what Dio wants - to finally see the
fate of all known and understood and accepted. He wants gravity to be visible
instead of invisible, the guiding force of the world revealed for all to see.
And he wants to see that at Dio’s side, not without him.
The first time, he comes just to prove that he can do it at all. The room
upstairs is dim and dominated by the coffin. There’s a bookshelf as well, and
he amuses himself by looking through the books Dio keeps close to read just
before he rests. It’s a mix of history texts, intellectual writings, and
pornographic texts. There’s a well-thumbed copy of “The Sins of the Cities of
the Plain” and Pucci ends up sitting on the raised platform, with his back
against the coffin.
He reads as much as he can before it begins to bore him (and as scandalous as
it must have been at the time, it’s also kind of boring and repetitive) before
he looks to see where the spine cracks when he lets it fall open. It seems
older than him, maybe even old enough to have always been Dio’s, though Pucci
doubts that.
He plans on leaving soon after, smug with the knowledge that he had so easily
slipped by Vanilla Ice. But he's tempted to push the coffin lid aside just
slightly, just to see what Dio looks like inside of it. Does he transform into
something horrible? Is there a bat-faced creature in there? Or will he lie like
Dracula on silks, face pale white and eyes open and unseeing.
Dio lies like he’s sleeping, though he’s still as stone. He’s a corpse, a
statue, a disappointment in a way. He’s not something from a gothic horror or
the kind of B-movies they show at the cheap theaters. The only novelty is
seeing that Dio has a hard-on even as he sleeps. He supposes that answers the
question of how much of Dio’s bulge was him and how much was padding. It's more
of a novelty than anything, or a punchline to a joke. Pucci chuckles softly to
himself, fixing the lid and slipping downstairs. He’s won the game he was
playing with himself, and with his unwitting participants, and there’s no need
to play it again.
Except, he does. Not the next day, but the day after, he waits until he hears
the sound of Vanilla’s footsteps on the stairs down before Pucci heads up. He
tells himself it’s to read Dio’s books again, but he never even glances at the
shelf. Pucci heads straight for the coffin and lifts the lid clear off this
time, not content to just peek at him through a sliver.
The lining is a soft pink, not the deep bloody velvet he would have imagined,
but something plainer and ordinary, the colour of carnations maybe. Dio lies on
it, naked and still, his hair sprawled out over the lining. It reminds Pucci so
much of an illustration from a children’s book he had when he was little, of
all the forest animals and dwarves gathered around a glass coffin in the woods.
Snow White had been pale and still, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Dio
is the same, pale and still, eyes closed, lips parted ever so slightly. He
looks like he’s waiting for true love’s kiss to wake him.
Pucci sits on the raised platform and leans over the side of the coffin, just
looking at Dio. He’s so intense when he’s awake. His body has a physical
presence to it, an almost electric atmosphere that captivates everyone who
comes close. Pucci’s seen how the others all falter a little in Dio’s presence,
how they grow shy or find their words no longer come smoothly, or how they pour
from their lips in a torrent that can never be quieted. Dio can control the
room with nothing more than the movement of his eyes or a few carefully
selected words.
In his coffin, his power is gone. The man that lies here is not something
otherworldly, not some terrifying force of nature that can only be weathered
and never really known. When he sleeps in the day, when he lies truly dead and
truly silent, he’s just a man like any other. Except even now, he isn’t. Even
now, he’s the most beautiful man Pucci’s ever seen, his face like something
from a renaissance painting, his body like a Greek sculpture. He’s so still and
yet Pucci finds so many things to note about him now that he has a chance to
look without any need to turn his eyes away.
The scar on Dio’s neck separates him from his body, and if he looks close,
Pucci can see where the skin’s shades are slightly different. It’s changing
though, and along the shoulders, he sees that the slightly browner shades are
giving way to the same pale of Dio’s face. There, the three moles along Dio’s
ear, and there, small scars on his knuckles and hands. Dio is otherwise so
flawless, and Pucci savours what it means to look at Dio and to see those
secret flaws and to know only he’s had a chance to inspect him like this.
He doesn’t touch Dio that day, but he does the next, risking what might happen,
risking that Dio might wake up. Pucci sets a few fingers on Dio’s wrist,
trusting that fate will work with him instead of against him. Gravity lead him
here and drew him to Dio - it won’t fail him now. And it doesn’t, for Dio
doesn’t stir at all. His eyes remain shut. His lips stay apart. He is so quiet,
so still, so silent. He looks like a statue, but his body is soft to the touch,
still flesh even if it’s cold and lifeless. Pucci traces his fingers up the
inside of Dio’s wrist, tracing over the still veins lying just beneath the
surface. There’s no red among them anymore, just pale blue up and down his arm
where blood lies lacking in oxygen.
Dio doesn’t wake when Pucci grazes his fingers over him, and he doesn’t wake
when Pucci lifts his hand. Pucci brings it to his mouth, gently touching his
lips to those small scars along his knuckles and over the back of his hands. He
would never be able to do such a thing with Dio while he was awake, but while
he lies sleeping, he can do as he pleases without any fear that he might freeze
or falter when Dio looks at him.
Dio’s hand is so large and yet so soft, lacking the callouses you would expect.
It’s like he’s never worked a day in all his life. Pucci just holds the hand
within his own. It starts to warm after a while, the heat from Pucci’s body
soaking into Dio’s. But he’ll never truly be warm. No matter how close he holds
him, Dio will always return to room temperature the moment Pucci lets go of
him.
He hates to leave, but he has no choice, forced to tuck Dio away and to slide
the coffin lid back on before he loses track of time. All through dinner that
night, while Dio sits at the head of the table and holds court with his glass
of wine, Pucci’s eyes are drawn to his fingers. He knows them now, every inch
of them. He knows the scars that no one else here will ever see as closely as
Pucci has.
It’s a small thrill that he holds tight. It compels him to climb the stairs
again, and he’s getting very good at slipping past Vanilla Ice. Nobody seems to
notice that Pucci’s gone missing, and no one questions what it is he might be
doing when he disappears. Only Dio might wonder, and then Pucci is always
around when Dio's awake, so be never missed Pucci.
Dio sleeps in the nude, no sheet and no pillow, none of the usual creature
comforts the living crave. Only the velvet is there to cradle Dio's body, soft
and pink, like a cocoon of flesh. Dio lies still and silent as the dead,
because he is dead during the daylight hours. But Pucci's seen bodies before in
the church and he's helped with funerals and none of them were like Dio is now.
Even while his spirit had departed, there's an energy to his body, a magnetism
that cannot be denied. Pucci likes to sit by Dio's head and to run his fingers
through that beautiful golden hair. He likes to set a hand on that vast chest
and just touch him, his mind always expecting a breath that never comes.
At first, his hands stay high, content to touch Dio’s hair and forehead, to run
his fingers over those soft parted lips and to trail them along the edge of his
chin. At first, he sits outside of the coffin, peering in at Dio’s body. But
the temptation is too much. His hand slips lower, brushing over that broad and
endless chest, and then it slips down over his well-toned stomach, and to his
waist, and his hips, to his thick thighs…
He shifts from sitting on the platform to the lip of the coffin, and when he
works up the courage to do so, he slips off his shoes and slides into the
coffin with Dio, settling himself on those thighs. Pucci’s careful not to get
too close to Dio’s waist or the erection that’s always there, but he’s so aware
of it’s presence when it’s inches away from him. Even with his weight on Dio,
there’s no response from him. Like Snow White with the apple caught in her
throat, Dio remains trapped in a temporary death. Only his Prince Charming is
twilight and he rises each evening and dies every morning.
Pucci leans in to press a kiss to Dio’s mouth, but as he leans down, he ends up
with Dio’s cock prodding him in the stomach. He can’t help it - he grins a
little to himself, stifling the laughter that builds up inside of him, and then
he carefully puts a hand on Dio to push his erection down, at least
momentarily. This wasn’t something they mentioned in any fairy tale his parents
ever read to him.
But then, those fairy tale books were fairly sanitized. He’s read the originals
since then and he knows that Talia woke when the twins she bore while she slept
crept up her body and sucked the poisoned flax from her finger. He knows that
Snow White woke when they dropped her coffin and the poisoned apple was
dislodged from her throat. They didn’t mention any of those when he was young.
So, he promises himself that he’ll do the same and if the time comes that he
tells this story, Dio won’t be hard during it, and he won’t have been biting
back laughter as he leant in to kiss him.
No surprises here. Dio is dead and he’s easy to kiss, lips parting at the
slightest touch. Pucci closes his eyes and lets himself sink into it. His free
hand creeps up Dio’s chest, his palm smoothing out over the curve of Dio’s neck
before his fingers sink into the thick blonde hair that splays out on the plush
fabric. Pucci kisses his way into Dio’s mouth, taking his time as he coaxes him
to open wide for Pucci. There’s no resistance, but no action either, and it’s
Pucci who is left to do all the work.
It’s strange, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just means it’s different. He
pulls back and opens his eyes, looking down at Dio’s peaceful face. His mouth
lies open where Pucci made short work of him and his lips are slightly wet from
being kissed, shining dully by the light of the low-burning candles. Dio
doesn’t wake. Proof that this wasn’t true love’s kiss, or that’s what he
supposes Vanilla would make of this. Then again, Vanilla would probably be
horribly offended by the thought of anyone slipping into Dio’s coffin during
the day and kissing him.
“If he knew-” Pucci says softly, then hushes himself. No point in talking to
Dio, not when he’s asleep. Instead, he lowers himself and lies against Dio’s
body, tucking himself against that vast chest. Pucci’s tempted to pull the
coffin lid over them and to lie here in the dark with Dio, to feel for a moment
what it’s like to be dead and buried.
Sometimes, he wishes desperately that he were dead - not like Dio, but dead
like Perla. It’s worse when he’s returned home and he lies on his bed in that
empty house. The house is a mausoleum and his parents drift from room to room
like ghosts, haunting the halls that the maids still keep immaculately clean.
Dio’s mansion is dark and dirty and it still feels a thousand times more alive.
Even Dio feels more alive than Pucci does sometimes. When he’s near him, he
feels as if the promise of life after death is true, that there can be Heaven
here on earth for all of them, even the sinners. Even the damned.
He could just close his eyes fall asleep against Dio and be as dead as he is,
and then rise in the evening and be resurrected. Maybe then, he wouldn’t feel
as if he’s another ghost-
Pucci’s getting into a good deep sulk when he shifts and then he feels Dio’s
erection prod up against him, and he can’t help it - he buries his face against
Dio’s chest and barely manages to keep his laughter to a minimum. Dio’s really
ruining the moment here. If Dio were awake, Pucci’s sure he would be just so
smug about it.
Even while dead to the world, he manages to find a way to challenge Pucci,
though his means of doing so are somewhat limited when he’s like this. Pucci
smiles to himself and sighs against Dio’s chest, turning his head so his cheek
rests against the cool flesh. It warms under his touch, never the way a living
person’s would, but still growing warmer than any wood or glass would beneath
his touch. It’s almost as if he could breath life back into Dio if he tried
hard enough. What it would be like to touch Dio and feel warm skin under his
palms? What would it be like to press his fingertips to Dio’s neck and feel a
pulse underneath them.
His hand slides up to touch Dio’s neck. There’s no pulse of course, no
breathing either. He’s still and smooth, marred only by the scar tissue that
separates his head and body. Pucci’s hand traces along the edge of it, noting
the way the flesh melted together as it healed. He cranes his head up as well,
pressing his lips to the scar and sucking lightly on it. It’s pointless to do
so when Dio isn’t here to feel it, but he does it anyway because it feels nice
to do so.
Pucci leaves a wet line along the ring of scars on Dio’s neck and then presses
their mouths together again. He closes his eyes and settles into kissing Dio in
the quiet of the coffin, breathing into that silent and still mouth as if his
breath can make it come to life again. The hand on Dio’s neck starts to trail
down again, fingertips finding their way along the paths and lines of Dio’s
body, over the thick muscles and the endlessly long torso until…
Until he stalls out just above the dip in Dio’s hips. He knows what’s just
below him. Dio’s cock is there, hard, less than an inch away from his grasp.
Right now, it’s pointed up towards the sky and Pucci wonders if this is some
biological quirk among vampires or something more deliberate? Then again, does
it matter? It wouldn’t change anything, not really. The physical reaction
itself is more important than the whys of it. He smiles against Dio’s mouth and
then taps his jaw shut again, just so he can kiss his way in once more.
He finally manages to wrap his hand around Dio’s cock. It feels the same as
ever, just as hard as if he were awake. Then again, now that he thinks of it,
he can’t remember if he’s ever seen Dio soft. Even after he’s come, he usually
remains hard. He’s never thought much about it before, having only his few
crude and lonely experiences to draw from and a lifetime of literature who had
already been proved somewhat incorrect about certain facts. Pucci gives it a
few gentle strokes, wondering if Dio’s able to come like this. Will he notice
when he wakes up if Pucci’s brought him to the brink and then withdrawn before
he could finish? Or will he not react at all? It’s hard to judge from just a
few pumps of his fist.
Pucci rests his chin on Dio’s chest, looking up at his peaceful face. He idly
keeps stroking Dio, his hand taking its time now that he has no audience. It’s
strange having the opportunity to see the pace, but it’s not bad at all. It’s a
change and it’s one he likes. Dio is so assertive that even when Pucci tries to
set the pace, he finds himself swept up in what Dio wants him to do, barely
registering that he’s given up on his own desires to suit Dio’s needs until
it’s too late. But Dio sleeps and Pucci can just touch him to his heart’s
desire, dragging his palm over the hard shaft and bringing it up to rub over
the head of Dio’s cock. It feels interesting, the head so soft and with a sort
of spongy texture compared to the velvet softness of the shaft. Pucci
momentarily takes his hand off so he can lick his palm until it’s wet before
before he puts his hand back.
It’s so quiet in here. Pucci’s chin digs a little deeper into Dio’s pecs. “I
wonder if you’ll be angry when you wake up. I know I’m not meant to be in
here.”
There’s no response of course. The dead don’t speak, not during the daylight
hours. Pucci glances down towards Dio’s cock, wondering what it would feel like
to ride Dio when he’s like this. It would probably be nice. He could set his
own pace and not worry about being interrupted by another of Dio’s followers,
or having Dio rush him along. The only trouble is that he didn’t bring any lube
with him. He didn’t think he’d need it. That’s what he gets for not planning
ahead, and that thought brings a little laugh to his lips.
Next time he sneaks upstairs to spend an afternoon alone with Dio’s body, he’ll
be sure to anticipate every eventuality, including fucking his dead body. Pucci
buries his face against Dio’s shoulder, biting back laughter he can’t risk
letting escape. His face is red and he’s not sure how he feels right now. A
little silly maybe for touching Dio even though he’s like this. A little sick
that he’s lying in a coffin with a corpse and seriously considering fucking
him. But, what’s the difference between this and fucking Dio when the sun’s
down? He’s still a corpse then as well. There’s never a time when his heart
beats, only a time when Dio is able to move this body.
Pucci sighs and closes his eyes once he’s gotten himself mostly under control.
He’s stopped jerking Dio off, his fingers just resting on the root of him
instead, brushing against the base of Dio’s cock and over the surrounding
flesh. He doesn’t seem to be any more or any less hard.
He in the midst of talking himself into leaving when he hears the soft sound of
footsteps. There shouldn’t be any sound up here, nothing but Pucci’s breathing.
He feels a cold chill fill him and he quickly sits up, looking around. There’s
nowhere to hide up here and there’s only one set of stairs down. That’s what
makes this the safest place in the mansion for Dio to sleep in. He grasps at
prime numbers, holding tight to them as he feels the panic swell in his chest.
Two. Three. Five. Seven-
The coffin lid! He grasps it and lifts it, fighting to keep it balanced as he
sets it down on top of him and Dio. He can’t push it one way or another too far
or it might make a grinding sound and that will surely give them both away.
Instead, as he counts in his mind, he carefully bring the lid to settle down
directly on top of them, blocking out all of the light. Pucci can only pray
that it’s on straight from the outside, as he can’t tell from in here. He takes
his hands away from the lid and lies still, his palms still towards the sky as
if he plans to fight whoever it is coming up.
It’s hard to hear anything from inside the coffin. Pucci isn’t sure that
anyone’s actually come upstairs and he waits in silence and blackness, trying
to hold his breath. Maybe he imagined it. But if he imagined it, then how long
should he wait to make sure it was his imagination and nothing more.
Pucci counts, bringing a knuckle to his mouth to hold onto, grasping the flesh
and bone beneath his teeth and worrying lightly at it. Forty-one. Forty-seven.
Fifty-three. Fifty-nine. Sixty-
“My lord,” a voice says and Pucci can’t even relax because that’s Vanilla Ice
outside of the coffin. Any moment, he might push the lid aside. If he does-
If he does, he’ll take Vanilla Ice’s memory. He’ll be found either way, but
removing Vanilla Ice’s memory will at least ensure that Pucci remains alive
long enough to throw himself at Dio’s mercy rather than facing an undoubtedly
more deadly and vicious assault by Vanilla Ice.
But as he’s readying himself for the worst case scenario, Vanilla Ice speaks
again and it becomes clear he’s not here to catch Pucci in the act. Instead, he
gives the silent body beside Pucci a status report on the movements of the
mansion. Pucci listens carefully and discovers exactly how much Vanilla Ice is
spying on them all, as his own movements to visit a local market are reported
in less than shining terms, as if Pucci were out looking for an assassin as
opposed to him simply wanting to buy some fresh fruit.
It also makes it clear that Vanilla Ice has never once peeked in the coffin.
Unlike Pucci, it seems that he’s been content to sit outside and give his
report without once seeing if Dio was alert enough to hear anything said to
him. Or perhaps it doesn’t matter to Vanilla if Dio does hear? Perhaps what
matters is that it’s said at all. Perhaps this in itself is a fantasy for
Vanilla Ice - to sit intimately near Dio and speak to him like this.
In the coffin, there’s nothing but darkness. Pucci listens as Ice recounts the
movements of his fellow residents, and then he slides his hand along Dio’s
hips, finding his cock once more. He swipes his hand along the shaft, up to the
head-
Oh. It’s wetter than it should be if it was just spit. He brings his palm up to
his face to make sure though, smelling it and then licking along the wet spot.
The texture is somewhat different than saliva and the taste and smell are
distinct, even if they’re fainter than usual. Dio’s gotten aroused.
Pucci bites his lip. He stays with his palm nestled near his nose and as
Vanilla Ice drones on, he debates on if he should or shouldn’t. It was one
thing when Dio wouldn’t react. But if his body is aroused enough to leak
precum, he might be alert enough to wake when he comes. If he’s discovered by
Dio, or worse, by Vanilla Ice…
And yet, he lowers his palm and sets it on Dio’s chest, letting his fingers run
back down his long torso, coming to rest on his cock again. It’s so dark in
here that he can’t see anything at all and he’s afraid he might bump the lid on
the coffin if he’s not careful. Pucci does his best to keep his upward strokes
from going too high, focusing on squeezing and rubbing the base of Dio’s cock.
Only once in every three or four squeezes does he let himself slide higher to
confirm that yes, Dio is reacting.
Pucci keeps his mouth pressed against Dio’s chest, letting it help silence
Pucci as he caresses Dio’s cock. He’s reacting as well, slowly growing harder
and harder with every stroke along Dio’s shaft. His face burns red and he rubs
his thumb along the underside of Dio’s shaft and up over the head of his cock
as it slides up. If he weren’t in darkness, and this coffin was larger, he
would slip down to Dio’s waist and take that hard cock right into his mouth.
But all he can do here is occasionally bring his hand up to lick along it,
tasting salt and the unmistakable scent of Dio’s arousal.
He fits his thighs around Dio’s leg, letting his hips rub against him. Pucci
closes his eyes out of habit and he doesn’t dare move his mouth, not wanting to
make a single sound that might give him away. Vanilla Ice drones on but all
Pucci can hear is the pounding of his own heart as it speeds in his chest. His
hips rock back and forth against Dio and he teases himself, only allowing his
body to push forward when he strokes Dio, going still whenever he brings his
hand up Dio’s body to lick and taste his palm. He smears it over Dio’s stomach
on one pull up and he wonders if Dio will smell it when he wakes up. Will he
wonder what happened?
Will he lie here in his coffin, his body still feeling the after-effects of
coming, and know he had a daytime visitor? Pucci shivers at the thought. He has
to bite his cheeks not to breathe too loudly or to let out any soft sounds
building deep in his chest. It’s so strange not to hear Dio’s usual noises.
He’s usually so loud when enjoying himself in bed, but that silent heart
betrays nothing at all, even as his cock continues to leak precum with every
stroke down his shaft.
Finally, Vanilla Ice seems to reach the end of his monotonous report when
there’s sound from outside, the scuffling of feet on the floor and a soft, “My
Lord. I will speak to you when the sun sets.” There’s a pause and a heavy thump
as Vanilla’s hand falls onto the coffin lid. Pucci freezes up, his heart
stopping dead in his chest. This is it. This is the moment when he pushes it
aside and it all ends.
But no. There’s just silence and then nothing but the sound of withdrawing
feet. What was that? It comes to Pucci clearly in a moment - Vanilla standing
above the coffin, his head bowed and staring down at Dio’s nameplate with what
was undoubtedly longing or perhaps a desire to proclaim his love. But he didn’t
even do that. He just stared and retreated.
Pucci bites his cheeks harder and doesn’t dare make a sound, not even the
slightest laugh at the thought. Ice loved Dio more than his own life, but he
couldn’t even bring himself to say as much even when Dio wasn’t listening. He
waits a little longer to be sure that Vanilla is gone before Pucci picks the
lid off the coffin and sets it aside, turning quickly to see what he’s done to
Dio.
And oh God, Pucci has pushed him to the brink. While Dio isn’t alive, Pucci can
see tension in him anyway, especially where his thighs have shifted ever so
slightly and pulled taunt. Dio’s head has falling to the side and his mouth is
open, and Pucci knows it wasn’t him who opened that mouth this time. He’s dead,
but he isn’t - it’s more that he’s asleep so deeply that he moves slow as
molasses. But he’s moving all the same, responding to Pucci’s touch in more
than just the obvious physical way.
Pucci pushes his pants down to his knees and he straddles Dio, pressing their
cocks together. He wraps his hand around both and starts to stroke, his free
hand gripping the side of the coffin to keep himself upright. Dio’s so handsome
like this, his long blonde hair spilling over the velvet lining, his mouth
parting as if he’s already in the midst of an orgasm. Pucci shivers and he
tucks his face against his shoulder to stop himself from making too many loud
sounds. He can’t stop them all, but he manages to reduce them down to soft
breathy grunts and the gentle whistle of his breath streaming in through his
nose. Pucci’s so hard right now, all from simply touching Dio when he’s like
this, when he’s still and helpless and completely at his mercy.
And even so, Pucci would never hurt him. He never could do anything to harm
Dio. All he wants is to to have him, to see him raised high and to achieve
their dreams of Heaven. All he wants is this: Dio all to himself, Dio letting
Pucci set the pace, Dio responding even in death to Pucci’s touch-
There’s the softest, strangest sound that rattles from Dio’s lips, a gentle wry
that slips free, and then he’s coming in that same slow way, gushing over
Pucci’s fist and his stomach. Pucci strokes them both harder, until they’re wet
and sticky and there’s a little puddle of cool semen resting on Dio. Pucci’s
face burns red and he whines into his arm and he feels how hard Dio still is
even after coming, his cock pressed against Pucci’s, his skin slick and rubbing
against Pucci.
Pucci bites his cheeks and he comes, his jaw snapping down hard enough that he
tastes blood. His thighs clench tight and his hand is the only thing that keeps
him upright, holding tight to the side of the coffin while the other strokes
himself until it hurts too much to go on. He falls back onto Dio’s thighs and
he just sits there, breathing heavily and feeling his muscles tense and
untense, the strength of his orgasm having turned all of his body into a warm
sort of jelly.
Then he looks at Dio and he lets out a soft moan at the sight of him, laid out
so beautifully with cum all up his body, splattered over his chest and stomach.
God… oh God. Pucci’s face is so red and he has to look away. He did this to
Dio… and he could leave his mess behind, along with a mystery for Dio to solve.
Part of him is so tempted to do so, to perhaps go even further-
He leans forward and drags a cross in the pooled semen on Dio’s stomach and
Pucci laughs softly to himself. A moment later, he tugs his pants up and he
pulls his shirt off, using it to carefully clean Dio up. He’ll wash this later
and remove any evidence of his activities. Pucci wipes Dio down until there’s
no trace of anything that happened. Then he crumples his shirt up and dumps it
on the ground outside of the coffin, leaning in to kiss Dio at least one more
time.
Dio’s mouth is so soft to the touch, so pliable. Pucci kisses his way in and he
savours one last kiss with Dio, loving how he tastes and how he responds, his
lips parting wide for Pucci, his teeth pressing against Pucci’s lips, his
tongue-
His hands suddenly grasping Pucci’s waist and holding him still. Pucci freezes
up and his eyes snap open, and he finds Dio staring back at him. His heart
stops dead in his chest and he can’t breathe. Pucci stares at him, eyes wide
with horror. He’s awake. Dio’s awake. But-
Dio pulls back and he squeezes Pucci. “Enrico Pucci, I didn’t imagine you would
be nearly so bold.” Those dark eyes are fixed on Pucci and Dio raises himself,
turning them smoothly until Pucci’s lying on the soft velvet and Dio’s looming
overhead, nearly as big as the coffin lid and almost as able to block the
light. Pucci’s still silent, and Dio gives him a squeeze and a command.
“Breathe.”
He does, but only because his lungs are burning and he has to. Pucci sucks in
air and his heart starts up again, pounding furiously in his chest. “How long
were you awake?”
Dio just smiles and his teeth are so sharp and so white. And then he’s close to
Pucci, their noses touching one another. “How long do you think Pucci? Do you
know when it was I woke? I thought you must have known when Vanilla Ice
visited. Your hand stayed ever so busy, testing me and trying to make me break
my silence in front of him.”
The way Pucci’s face burns red should tell Dio everything - he has no idea. He
just wanted to touch him, so he did. “Dio-”
He’s silenced with a fierce kiss. It’s nothing like the ones Pucci coaxed from
him while he lay sleeping. It’s demanding and greedy, Dio working his way into
Pucci’s mouth and kissing him breathless, until Pucci’s arching against his
hands and his lungs ache from being denied air. Dio finally pulls back but he
doesn’t go far, his mouth so near Pucci’s. “You marked me.”
Pucci’s hands find their way to Dio’s chest. His heart thrums in his chest and
he’s breathless, still trying to catch up. “I wanted- I wanted to leave it
there. I wondered if you would know it was me.”
“Always,” Dio insists. “I know your smell. I smelt you the first day. I tasted
you the second. And now… what were you going to do tomorrow if I didn’t find
you first?”
Pucci’s burning up but he tips his head back a little into the velvet and he
risks teasing Dio. “I was going to ride you and let you come inside of me.”
Dio’s eyes narrow. His hands squeeze Pucci’s hips hard enough to make the bone
grind ever so slightly and Pucci gasps. “Bring lube,” he says, his lips
brushing against Pucci’s. “Fuck me awake.”
Pucci shivers and nods, feeling his cock lazily twitch. He will. God, he will.
He leans forward and kisses Dio again. Pucci still has to leave and slip out of
here, to make his way downstairs safely without being caught by Vanilla, and
then somehow do it all again tomorrow, all so he can fuck Dio. It’s bound to
fail sooner or later.
But now he’s not so worried about being caught, not when Dio wants him to be
the one who slips upstairs and wakes him from his slumber.
***** Chapter 2 *****
He means to go the next day or the day after. But it's not so simple. Vanilla
Ice must suspect something or else Dio's added an extra challenge, because
Vanilla's patrols are far tighter and more aggressive than before. There's no
way past him the first few days, and then Pucci's flight back home rapidly
approaches and he can't put that off without arousing suspicion.
The day before his flight, he has no choice. Either he goes now, or he'll be
forced to wait until he gets a chance to visit next and that could be weeks.
Pucci's been thinking about how it'll feel to straddle Dio and feel that
eternally hard cock slide inside of him for days. He can't stand the thought of
waiting in America, knowing he lost his chance because he wasn't quick enough
or clever enough to get by Vanilla.
Pucci can't stand the thought of disappointing Dio, not after how pleased he
was when he woke to Pucci's hand on him, slowly jerking him off in his sleep.
Since that moment, Dio's paid special attention to him, enough so that everyone
else seems to have noticed. He wants to see the moment when Dio's eyes part and
he looks up at Pucci.
He has no choice. He has to try. But he's not faster than Vanilla or stronger.
He can't just rush past him. Pucci has to outsmart him and while Vanilla is
sometimes pathetically unimaginative and humorless, it's those very traits that
make him an excellent guard. His patterns are methodical and well thought out
and he never lets himself be distracted by anything - not food or water, by no
other mansion guest, by nothing but the thought of serving Dio and winning his
love.
And yet, Pucci did see his weakness. When he lay in the coffin, Vanilla had
paused to press his hand to the coffin lid. He couldn't bring himself to open
it, not the way Pucci had, but he had wanted to badly. It was sad really. His
blind loyalty meant he would never truly understand what Dio wanted from those
he considered equals rather than servants.
Rather than hide from Vanilla this time, Pucci seeks him out, choosing to come
out of the chapel at just the right moment. He nods to Vanilla Ice. Vanilla
glowers back at him, predictably.
"Vanilla, do you have a moment? I was curious about something and thought you
might know the answer." Pucci carefully baits his hook, noting the sideways
look Vanilla turns in his direction. "When you keep watch during the day, do
you also go upstairs?"
"I go everywhere someone might be." Vanilla speaks as if Pucci is being an
irritation, which he is. "Do you have an issue with my patrol?"
"Should I?" Pucci raises an eyebrow and when Vanilla starts to react, he's
quick to placate him, all while getting in another subtle dig. "I've never
guarded anything before. I wouldn't know if you were doing anything wrong."
He can see how Vanilla wants to snap at him but can't figure out what to be
offended by exactly. Vanilla settles for a stony sneer. "I don't need to answer
to you."
Pucci doesn't press any further. He's gotten the rise he wanted and it was very
satisfying but he still has a trap to bait. "Of course not. I wasn't asking
about your patrol. I wanted to know if you've ever looked."
He raises his eyebrows expectantly, hoping Vanilla asks what exactly he should
be looking at. Instead, Vanilla just stares down Pucci, refusing to take the
bait. This is why nobody enjoys spending any time with him. He can't even play
along for a moment.
When Vanilla Ice won't ask the question, Pucci asks it for him. "Have you ever
looked in Dio's coffin while he sleeps?"
The way Vanilla's entire face changes is downright comical, his grim glower
giving way to shock and outrage. It's so satisfying and he wishes he could take
a picture of it. But he doubts he would be able to lift the camera before Cream
would destroy it and both of Pucci's hands. Vanilla's fury is a sight to
behold. "I would never betray Lord Dio's trust!"
"It's not a betrayal to take a peek." Pucci holds his book close to his chest.
He carries on, fighting to keep himself from laughing or smirking and betraying
that he knows the truth of everything. "Dio would never know, and even if he
did, I imagine he would find it playful or bold."
Vanilla stops dead in the corridor. There are two small pink spots on his
otherwise pale face, the only sign that he's offended. Or perhaps embarrassed
that Pucci's given voice to a desire he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge,
even to himself.
"Never." He finally says, his voice a cold as ice. "You should be ashamed of
yourself. If Lord Dio knew you thought something like that-"
"It was just a question, Vanilla." Pucci rolls his eyes at Ice, treating
everything like the overreaction that it is. He pauses for just long enough to
let his next question land with all the smirking weight it deserves. "Or are
you afraid he might catch you?"
Vanilla's response is to turn his back to Pucci and storm off, his footsteps
thudding furiously over the stone floor. He goes in the opposite direction,
breaking his usual patrol pattern simply to escape Pucci's questions and
further barbs. Pucci waits for Vanilla to disappear before he backtracks and
heads for the stairs. There's no guard now and Vanilla's unlikely to pass by
until long after Pucci's safely in Dio's room. He takes the stairs with a small
bounce in his step, smirking to himself as he leaves the hall behind and climbs
to the peak of the mansion.
Dio's private chambers are as they always are - the bookshelf full of books,
the lit candles casting shadows, and of course, the coffin dominating the room.
Pucci approaches it with the confidence of one who has been here many times
before, easily pushing the lid aside and peering in on Dio.
He's handsome as ever, so still in death and so beautiful. Pucci sets down his
book and opens it up. He hollowed it out a few days ago, turning a second-hand
copy of Cecilia into a discrete way of hiding contraband. Pucci has lubricant
of course and this time he's brought a cloth to clean themselves of with. But
most importantly, he has a video camera, purchased on one of his more recent
trips out.
Pucci sits on the edge of the lid and sets the camera up, peering through the
viewfinder as he tries to adjust it. It takes a little bit of finessing but he
manages to set on the lip of the coffin so it captures Dio's body, and part of
Pucci's. His face is kept safely out of frame and he plans on keeping it there,
just in case. Pucci starts the film and undresses, folding his clothes and
setting them to the side. He fetches the lubricant and climbs into the coffin
with Dio, straddling him.
"Vanilla's so easy to tease." Pucci says. He's not sure if Dio can hear him,
but with the camera running, he feels compelled to fill the silence with
conversation. And anyway, he likes to speak with Dio, even when he receives no
answer in return. He sets a hand on Dio's bare chest, feeling the cool flesh
beneath his fingers slowly start to warm itself. "I can never decide if you
keep him because he's so loyal, or because he's so easy to wind up."
For the camera's sake, he pours a little lube over his fingers and raises
himself up, turning to the side. He can see himself in the flipped viewfinder
and Pucci uses it to help him work the first finger inside of himself. Pucci
has a unique chance to see what it looks like when he fingers himself, and he
can understand now why Dio likes to watch. With his head out of frame, Pucci
can nearly believe he's watching a stranger doing this. He slides the finger in
and out of him and on the screen, he watches the stranger start to finger-fuck
himself.
One finger becomes two and Pucci tries to take his time, but it's hard to when
he can see Dio laid out before him, eternally beautiful in his silent sleep.
His cock points towards the ceiling, tempting Pucci to hurry up and lower
himself on it. The fingers inside of him feel good as they push in and out,
slowly loosening Pucci up, but the more he works them inside of his ass, the
more he wants to feel Dio's cock replace them. He clenches around the fingers
at the very thoughts of sinking on Dio and taking his cock deep inside of him.
Pucci bites at his lower lip, sighing with want.
But Dio is big and he needs more than two fingers inside of him before he'll be
ready to take Dio in, especially if he plans on straddling him. If he wants to
fuck Dio awake the way he was asked to, then he needs to take his time, no
matter how eager he might be to rush forward and skip straight to riding Dio.
He makes sure the camera still has him within focus as he pulls his fingers out
and gets a little more lube on them, trying to find a nice balance between not-
wet-enough and so-wet-it-leaves-a-mess. He leaves a little dollop on the tip of
his fingers and works it inside of him, his free hand gripping the side of the
coffin as he sinks both fingers inside and then slowly begins to work the third
in as well. It's a lot to put inside of him and Pucci gets louder as he fingers
himself, thrusting in quickly and then slowing it down again, just crooking his
fingers inside of himself and stretching until he can feel it start to give a
little instead of being unbearably tight. The sound of his breathing is
impossibly loud when there's nothing else to interrupt him or be heard over
Pucci, and he can't help but wonder if the camera will pick up all those soft
and breathless sounds.
Three fingers in. And carefully, he tries to work in the pinky, just to wrap it
up. It's too hard though and he finds himself getting frustrated as he tries to
coax it to come inside with the rest. When he feels too full to stand it, and
his hand is starting to cramp, he finally draws his fingers out. He feels so
empty, his body aching to be filled again.
Pucci wraps his still slick hand around Dio's cock and gives him a few strokes,
rubbing the excess lubricant over him. Like before, Dio doesn't seem to react.
He remains still and cold, eyes closed and face turned towards the ceiling. He
isn't leaking yet, but that took a while last time. Pucci had to touch him for
a long time before his cock had reacted, and even then, it had been slow to
respond and slower still to come for Pucci. He honestly wonders if Dio will
come inside of him, or if Pucci will end up not only coming first, but becoming
too sore to ride Dio through his orgasm. He hopes not. That would be a somewhat
disappointing ending to the tape he was making right now.
But, if it is, then it is. The tape is simply something to show Dio afterwards
if this all works out. If it doesn't, then he'll never mention it to Dio and
tell him a far more satisfying story.
He takes a breath to steady himself before he shifts forward and lifts himself
up, hovering over Dio's cock. Pucci's hand stays wrapped around Dio, holding
his shaft steady as Pucci begins to lower himself onto it. The head nudges up
against Pucci's entrance and he feels his insides twist a little as his nerves
start to spike. What if this is a terrible idea? What if-
Enough. Enough. Pucci closes his eyes and banishes the thoughts from his mind.
He focuses only on this moment, on the anticipation building in his chest, and
the promise of how good this will feel. Pucci breathes in, and then out, and
then he sinks down on Dio's cock.
And oh, God, it feels good. Pucci lets out a soft moan as he's slowly filled,
his knees wobbling a little from the effort of keeping himself crouched above
Dio. Usually, he has Dio to help keep him stable and provide a hand on his hip.
But Pucci's on his own this time and his hand grips the side of the coffin
tightly as he slowly lowers himself down. Even with all the preparation he did,
Pucci has to stop and back off, raising himself up when he hits a wall. Dio's
so big and it always takes a little time to get him in.
Pucci carefully rocks himself back and forth, trying to loosen himself up.
Dio's still and quiet below Pucci, his hair perfectly spread out over the the
cushion. He looks just like an angel when he's sleeping, like Michael with his
blonde hair scattered around him, like Raphael as he soothes the brow of the
sick. He's so beautiful and powerful, and the only flaw on his body comes from
the chain of scars that circle his neck. In his head (and only in his head -
Pucci doesn't dare give voice to this thought), he imagines that Dio wears his
scars as the Lord wore his crown of thorns. It must have scarred Him too and
when He Rose, Jesus must have carried those marks around his forehead.
He's stalling. Pucci takes another breath and on the exhale, he lets himself
sink down again, until he's got most of Dio inside of him. It's enough that
Pucci can rest his knees on either side of those broad hips, and he can start
to fuck himself on Dio. When he glances at the viewfinder, he sees himself from
the chest-down, his body naked and his chest hitching as he breathes out every
time his body thrusts down. It looks better than he'd hoped, and also it looks
silly to see his naked body on display, and his cock slowly twitching each time
he moves up and down. He looks away from the scene and his eyes fix on Dio
again.
It seems like he's still asleep. Pucci licks his lips and he keeps rocking,
trying to find a balance between enjoying him, and watching closely to see if
Dio is close to waking up. It's nice to be in charge, to have complete control
over how deep Dio's cock sinks into him, or how fast he wants to fuck himself.
Even when Pucci is technically in control of things, he never really is. Dio
always dominates, no matter what the position or the act. It's simply who he
is. But while Dio is still and silent, Pucci is able to dictate every aspect of
this encounter. It's truly thrilling.
Pucci closes his eyes for a moment, narrowing his focus to the cock inside of
him. Dio's so hard and so big, but he's opened himself up enough that it's not
hurting. There's some mild discomfort, but nothing he can't easily tolerate.
Pucci bites at his lip and he sinks down a little more. He's not quite ready
for Dio but he wants all of him inside of Pucci, and even as he feels his body
resist, he does his best to control his breathing and power through it. He
starts to gently rock back and forth on Dio, grinding down on him. The head of
Dio's cock presses deep inside of Pucci and even as he feels like he can't
manage it, he can feel himself sinking down just a little more… just a little
more…
When he bottoms out, Pucci lets out a guttural sound, desperate and surprised
that he actually accomplished what he set out to do. His hand clutches at the
side of the coffin and his eyes open up, staring down at Dio, half-expecting to
meet his gaze.
Dio's lips are slightly parted. They weren't before. He's starting to wake up.
Pucci lets out a delighted laugh before he catches himself, his face flushes as
he quickly quiets himself. This is being filmed and he doesn't want to make a
fool of himself.
With on eye on the viewfinder, Pucci shifts his weight back and starts to roll
his hips forward, never letting Dio's cock emerge from him while he focuses on
riding it. He's in so deep and when he grinds on him, the head of Dio's cock
hits just the spot and sends spasms through Pucci's thighs. Pucci's careful to
tease himself, not wanting to come right away.
"You're waking up. I can see the signs." Pucci tells him. He's careful to keep
his voice low, not wanting to invite Vanilla Ice to investigate in case he's
already returned to his usual patrol patterns. "Are you going to pretend to
sleep this time too?"
There's no answer of course. Pucci can't tell if Dio is still mostly asleep and
just waking up, or if he might actually be awake and faking it. So long as he
stays still and silent and doesn't react, Pucci has no way to tell how much of
this is conscious verse unconscious behavior.
So, the key is to give him a reason to respond, and Pucci does, squeezing tight
around Dio when he sinks back down again and bottoms out. Pucci writhes on
Dio's cock, just taking him in as deep as he can and squirming back and forth.
He feels so good and so hard, and all Pucci can do is arch his back and bite
back the loud moans threatening to fall from his lips. But Dio doesn't move,
and when Pucci looks at him, he seems to be in the same state as before - mouth
parted, eyes closed, body tranquil.
His eyes flick towards the stairs and he wonders how much he should risk
baiting Dio. Vanilla Ice is hopefully still elsewhere, but Pucci knows he'll
return to his regular patrol soon enough. No amount of accusations or personal
slights could convince Vanilla not to do his duty, even if they might distract
him for a little while. Pucci lifts a hand to his mouth and bites at his thumb
as he thinks quickly. It's hard to concentrate on anything else when he has
Dio's cock inside of him, but… he manages.
Pucci starts to rock back and forth on Dio, feeling his cock slip out just a
little before he slides it back in, keeping the bulk of Dio's shaft buried
inside of him. It feels good to grind like this and to just feel it push
against the walls of his ass, feeling ever so sensitive and tender when he
presses against just the right spots, and at just the right angle. Pucci bites
at his thumb one last time, and he drops his hand to his cock, giving it a
squeeze.
"It's a shame if you choose that. You'll miss the best part." He tells Dio, his
hand carefully stroking over his shaft. "You could stop me from touching
myself. All you have to do is raise your hands and grab my wrists. If you did,
I'd have to try use your cock alone to come. I'd have no choice but to grind on
you."
Dio is still, but Pucci swears that his face has changed a little - just a
little, a fraction - like it's pulling into an expression. Pucci grinds down
hard and he squeezes the base of his cock before his hand slides back up the
shaft, just rubbing over the head of it. Pucci sighs and he lets out a soft
moan, careful not to be too loud. He hopes the camera catches it.
"Ah, it's t-too bad. You could make me beg for you. I would have to be quiet,
in case Vanilla heard me. You could just hold my wrists slightly to the side of
my body and watch me squirm down on you. I'd take you in deep, just like this-
" And he slides himself the rest of the way down, bottoming out once again
before he pulls back to a more tolerable depth. The sensation feels wonderful,
and he swears he feels Dio's cock twitch inside of him. "-and I would have to
stay down on you. You could make me do anything… But now, like this, you can
only lie there and watch, and listen as I do what I want."
It's meant to be a tease but… once said, Pucci considered it. It's true. Dio
has no power like this. He's fighting against the sleep that grabs hold of him
during the day. Pucci is in control of all of this - of how deep Dio sinks in,
and how quickly Pucci goes, and if he'll even be allowed to come inside of him.
"You can only do what I want you to…" Pucci says again. He shifts a hand from
the coffin side, resting it on Dio's chest, while the other still strokes over
his shaft. "What I want, and nothing else…"
Dio is still and cold, and he feels colder still inside of Pucci. No matter how
much of Pucci's heat leeches into him, Dio will never be warm. But Pucci
doesn't want him to be warm. He likes how cold he is, just as he likes how
cruel Dio can be. It's those imperfections that make the rest of him even more
remarkable, how someone who should be irredeemable is the one man who might
redeem them all.
Pucci's been worried about what to do if Dio doesn't come for him. But… if he
doesn't, then he'll wake up hard and aching and he'll know that he missed out
on this. He'll know that Pucci was here and he came, and he slipped away all
without being caught. And Pucci-
Pucci can just leave the camera for him. Proof of what he missed. Proof that no
matter what Dio orders him to do, he can only enforce it if he wakes up. Pucci
squeezes his shaft one last time before he brings his hand back up to his
mouth. As he grinds on Dio, he pushes his fingers into his mouth, using them to
partly muffle him - but not entirely. Just enough to keep his moaning from
being obvious.
The head of Dio's cock rubs him in just the right way and Pucci lets out a
satisfied sigh, riding him steadily. His hips speed up and his knees dig into
the padded bottom of the coffin, and he wonders how often Dio fucks anyone in
here. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe the rest of the time, he uses bed, and he only
sleeps in here. Though as amusing as that thought is, Pucci's certain Dio does
more than sleep. He must lie here sometimes before he falls into a stupor, and
he must touch himself…
"Do you-" He mumbles around his fingers and draws them out. "Do you push
yourself, Dio? Do you see how many times you can come before you can't?"
All he can think about is Dio in the coffin, his hand on his cock, and cum
splattered over himself - over his belly and thighs, wet and white and Dio's
hand busy on his cock as he pushes himself to the brink again. Beneath him, Dio
is tensing up. Pucci can see that his head's fallen back. He can see that his
fangs are showing between his lips. He can see the strain in his body, coming
on slow. Pucci moans and flattens a hand over his lips, hiding the sound too
late. Oh God. Don't let anyone have heard him. He's so close though, he's so
close and he can see that Dio is too, and now it's a race to see who'll come
first.
All Pucci can do is keep rocking his hips and riding him, huffing breaths
covered by his palm. He sees himself in the viewfinder - his body lithe and
beautiful as it rises and falls on Dio's cock. Pucci never imagined he could
look like this. He had no idea he could be so desirable. Is this what Dio sees
when he looks at Pucci? Did his eyes slide over Pucci's body and cast aside the
cossack and see this - writhing, sweating naked flesh in his lap?
God. Oh God. Pucci squeezes tight around Dio and hooks his fingers in his
mouth, letting out a hungry sound. And just then, just then, Dio's eyes gently
slide open and stare up at Pucci. He doesn't reach up to grab him. He doesn't
thrust. He just stares up at Pucci, those golden eyes piercing him.
Pucci shudders and he squeezes, and Dio's face blossoms with pleasure, still
slow-motion. His body is still caught by sleep and he's entirely silent as his
mouth opens all the way. Pucci feels the first cold spurt inside of him, and
the next, and he moans with shock as he realizes that Dio's even coming slowly,
each surge of his cock so slow. He's still coming when Pucci sinks all the way
down on Dio, taking every inch of him and refuses to let himself raise up to a
more comfortable depth. He feels Dio come as deeply as he can inside of Pucci
and everything about it hits in just the right way - Dio coming in him, Dio
coming for him, Dio looking at him - and Pucci's own cock surges and he comes
as well.
He clutches at the side of the coffin and his hand stays over his mouth,
keeping him quiet as Pucci's body clenches and shudders through his orgasm. It
feels amazing and powerful and he can't think at all - he can only feel the mix
of pleasure and the chaser of pain. Dio's in so deep and Pucci is so tender,
and the ecstasy of coming is swiftly followed by his body protesting at the
pain. His head drops forward and he curls up on himself until he can barely
stand how it feels.
But Dio's still coming. Even as Pucci looks at the mess he's left on Dio's
chest, he feels another slow pump and his fingers clench at his lower jaw.
Pucci lifts himself off of Dio, moaning as he feels the shaft pull out of his
ass. When the head pops out, Pucci looks at the viewfinder and sees the camera
catch another slow spurt from Dio's cock. Jesus Christ. God… My God..
He watches himself and he thinks for a moment that he could turn his back to
the camera and part himself and show it-
No, that's too much. It's too dirty. It's something someone else would do. Not
Pucci. He wouldn't-
But the camera…
Pucci's thighs and legs are trembling. He turns himself around, kneeling facing
the end of the coffin. Dio's eyes are open, even if Pucci can't see them. He
keeps one hand on the coffin side, and the other… the other digs into his ass
cheek and pulls it to the side. Pucci's face is bright red and he's
embarrassed, but he shows Dio anyway - Dio and the camera both. He lets them
see as the smallest trickle of cum starts to work it's way out of him.
Pucci stays like that until he feels Dio's hands on him, taking the place of
his own hand. Dio spreads him wide and looks to see what Pucci's done. Pucci
puts both hands on the coffin lid and closes his eyes. As anxious and
embarrassed as he feels, Dio's touch soothes the worst of it. The way Dio's
hand so gently rub over his ass, the way they move up to his hips, to his body-
And then Dio's shifting and raising himself up, and he covers Pucci easily, the
bulk of his body pressed against him and over him. Dio's mouth presses against
Pucci's throat, and when his hand encourages Pucci to turn his head, he does.
He looks Dio in the eye and sees that he's still fighting sleep, still
lethargic. Pucci's woken him out of a deep sleep and it's taking everything he
can to move at all. "Dio…"
He presses his mouth to Pucci's cheek, slow but precise. His lips slide to
Pucci's and he kisses him, trying to bury himself in Pucci. Pucci parts easily
for him and that long, slow kiss, stealing breaths when he can manage to part
their lips for long enough. Dio's hands pull and tug at Pucci. He's slow but
he's like iron and Pucci can do nothing but turn with him, until he's flipped
over and looking up at Dio.
Pucci ends up pinned to the coffin's cushions and he sprawls out beneath Dio,
watching enraptured as Dio's hands drag over Pucci's body. He can see that Dio
means for this to be fast and quick, but he's moving in slow motion, his touch
long and lingering instead. Pucci's cum is on Dio's chest and it drips off of
him, landing on Pucci's stomach.
"Dio," Pucci stays again, and he's red as he brings it up, but- "Let me up. I
need to turn the camera off…"
Those gold eyes blink once - twice - slow and languorous. His eyelashes are as
golden as his hair, so light that they can barely be seen. No wonder he wears
make-up. All of him is so blonde and gold that it can barely be seen against
his pale skin. Then Dio smiles, and he slowly moves off of Pucci. Pucci sits up
with him and reaches for the camera, quickly finding and hitting the stop
button.
"You recorded it? Pucci…" Dio's voice is quicker, and his actions are too. He's
waking up fully. Dio leans back into Pucci's space, his hands groping their way
along his hips and chest. "How clever of you. How devious."
"In case you didn't wake up," Pucci says, though that's not entirely true. He
wraps an arm around Dio's shoulders and settles in his lap fully, giving him
another kiss. The camera stays in his other hand, held just out of Dio's easy
reach. He just wants to stay here and lounge with Dio and kiss him but…
"Vanilla will be coming up to check on you sometime soon. I shouldn't be here
when he gets back…"
Dio ignores this. He kisses Pucci and sucks on his throat, and he just touches
him. Dio's still hard, still pressing against Pucci's body. And though he just
came himself, Pucci can feel his cock starting to react. He's too sore to be
fucked like that again, and he rests his head against Dio's shoulder, reminding
him again. "Dio… I need to go…"
Again, Dio ignores him. Pucci tries to pull away but it's hard to convince
himself to do so when Dio's mouth is on him, his lips and teeth pulling Pucci's
flesh. He sighs a little and he gives in, trusting that Dio will hear Vanilla
Ice coming and warn him…
They end up in the coffin, Dio above Pucci, slowly plundering his body. Pucci
forgets about the camera, letting it roll to the side of the coffin so he can
run his hands over Dio's body. He knows he can't handle being penetrated again,
but they can do other things. And, because he wondered it on the film, he ends
up asking it now that Dio can respond to him. "If you never get soft, how many
times can you come before you can't anymore?"
"Do you want to know the answer Pucci? Or do you want to find out for
yourself?" Dio's teeth press into Pucci's skin, just hard enough to bruise but
not enough to tear. Pucci moans and he slides a hand down, down, seeking out
Dio's cock. He wraps his grip around it and starts to stroke, losing himself in
the sounds Dio makes when he's touched, and the feeling of his flesh sliding
against Pucci's, in-
"My Lord?" Vanilla Ice says and Pucci goes still. Oh God. Vanilla's here, he
came up the stairs. Dio didn't warn him. He can hear Vanilla as he drops to his
knees, the bone-cracking sound making him wince. "My deepest apologies. I was
not aware you were awake. I heard a sound and thought there was an intruder."
Dio bites at Pucci's throat, nipping hard before he lets go and raises his
head. Pucci stays where he's lying in the coffin, praying to God that he can't
be seen under Dio's bulk. "There was." Dio says and Pucci covers his face. Dio,
no… Dio of course just smiles. "I've taken care of him."
There's the sound of more flesh hitting stone. He's probably prostrating
himself. "I've failed you my Lord. I let someone get by my patrol patterns.
Whatever your punishment, I will accept it. If you wish for me to take my life,
it is yours."
"Rest easy, Vanilla Ice." Dio says, and then much to Pucci's horror, those
broad hands take hold of Pucci and haul him off the coffin floor. Pucci flushes
and his eyes dark over to Vanilla, his face pressed to the floor. "I do not
need your life. But, when I am finished here, Pucci will show you how he
slipped through your patrol patterns."
Pucci scowls at Dio, hissing at him through his teeth. "Dio…"
Vanilla doesn't move from his spot, but Pucci swears he can feel the anger
coming off of him in waves. "Pucci… I see. I know how he breached my pattern. I
reacted to a taunt meant to distract me. I will not allow this to happen
again."
"Good. You may stand guard at the foot of the stairs." Dio says. Vanilla rises
and Pucci does his best not to react when Vanilla Ice's eyes fall on him. He
holds himself proud - doing his best to convey his lack of remorse with the way
he holds his shoulders straight. 'See, I told you he would be pleased', he
tries to say without saying a word.
Vanilla just heads downstairs with hardly another word. Once he's gone, Pucci
gives Dio's chest a smack. "Wonderful, Dio. You've ensured I won't ever be able
to do this for you again. Not that I'd want to at this point."
Dio grins and then buries his head in the crook of Pucci's neck, sucking on him
hard enough to leave a mark. Pucci makes a frustrated sound, but it's so hard
to stay angry when Dio knows all the right spots to touch (or, in this case, to
lick and nip at). But when Dio pulls back, he looks so pleased and content, his
hands resting on Pucci's ass. "Next time, you won't need to sneak up here. You
will have full permission to visit me while I sleep."
Oh. That's… rather obvious. And generous as well… Pucci's annoyance melts a
little more, his hands settling on Dio's shoulders. "Well… I suppose it might
be worth explaining Vanilla's weaknesses for that privilege. Not everyone who
learns how to sneak up here might be content with just touching you."
And it will be fun to hold this over Vanilla Ice's head and let him know that
this isn't even the first time Pucci's been upstairs…
Dio seems to agree with Pucci's assessment. He returns them to the coffin,
holding Pucci underneath him. And with a telling smirk, Dio runs a hand down
Pucci's side. "I see you're reacting as well. How many times are you able to
come, Pucci?"
"I'd tell you, but I know you. You want to find out for yourself." And as Dio
wraps his hand around Pucci's cock, he returns the favour. By the time this is
all over, Pucci doubts he'll be able to walk, much less tell Vanilla in detail
how his security patrols failed.
Well, he can tell him on the way to the airport. Or… maybe he'll miss his
flight this time and just catch another. Dio can pay for it. Pucci imagines
he'll be more than happy to do so, if he gets to keep Pucci for another few
days. It'll be worth any suspicion to fly home with the souvenir he's filmed
today… and perhaps any other he manages to make in the next few hours.
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