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Benedizione

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The new capo seems very capable in Diavolo's eyes.

Bruno Buccellati has been with Passione for 8 years, and his previous caporegime always had good things to say about Buccellati and his team. Polpo's judgement might have been a little skewed, considering how he has taken the coward's way out of this world; but Diavolo is certain. Buccellati will make a magnificent capo.

Watching the young man from where he is; high above in a window of the Grand Hotel Vesuvio, Diavolo feels a sense of peace. Like a god looking down on his creations. Buccellati has a pleasant face, and a calm air to him. Diavolo is a good judge of character due to experience, and he believes that he could trust this newly promoted subordinate of his.

Another man is with Buccellati; Leone Abbacchio, Buccellati's right-hand man. As requested, Buccellati is to enter the meeting alone. Abbacchio and Buccellati speak together for a while, and Diavolo, keen observer that he is, notices something.

He isn't aware that the two men are romantically involved.

It is all in the way that Abbacchio smiles at Buccellati, small and secretive, and the way that Buccellati touches Abbacchio's shoulder. It seems like regular, friendly physicality but then Buccellati's fingers dances over Abbacchio's shoulder before he leaves to enter the building.

Fascinating.

Diavolo admits that they are a good match. Both young, good looking and highly capable; they're a duo to be feared. Diavolo recognizes competence when he sees it.

Buccellati is here to be welcomed properly into his new role.

It isn't a necessarily lavish affair; just a simple meeting with the other capos and Diavolo so that the boss of Passione could gauge the depth of his subordinate's loyalty. There is almost no living person who knew of Diavolo's true identity, and Diavolo intends to keep it that way. Buccellati and his team are Stand users, and Diavolo is especially wary of Stand users. There is no ensuring loyalty in those with unnatural abilities. Diavolo could not be too careful.

The room he is in is fitted with a monitor that displays the meeting venue. Passione's head honchos are at the ready and talking amongst themselves, waiting for Buccellati to arrive. This is standard affair—a networking event of sorts. To let his capos meet is a display of power to Diavolo. No one is truly anonymous but him. 

Buccellati enters the room and is greeted by the other capos; his resulting smile is pleasant and amiable, shaking the hands of everyone in the room, greeting them individually. 

The leader of La Squadra Esecuzioni is present as well. Diavolo thought it is important for the Stand users to establish their existence in Passione with each other, just in case. Risotto Nero and Diavolo had opposing opinions when it came to the duties of the assassination team. There is an established dissent from La Squadra Esecuzioni regarding their pay and their scope of power, but Diavolo thought it wise to keep the team fully dependent on him. A whole team of killers needs to be kept on a short leash. If they make an attempt to go on the offensive against Diavolo, Buccellati's team could be utilized to eliminate Nero and his crew. Diavolo is ready for anything. He is the Chess Grandmaster, and he knows how to play the game.

And yet—Nero and Buccellati meet, and are cordial with each other. They shake each other's hands and share a look that is...interesting. Perhaps they knew right away that they are both Stand users. Perhaps Diavolo is reading too much into it. But something is exchanged in the look they gave each other and Diavolo is intrigued.

He's had about enough of this, really.

"Bruno Buccellati," he speaks through the intercom before him, and relishes the surprised expressions of everyone in the room, "Congratulations. I look forward to your future accomplishments as our new caporegime."

Buccellati's jaw set and he looks entirely the charismatic gangster Diavolo has heard of, "Thank you kindly, Boss. I aspire to do my best."

"Bene. Get acquainted. Learn who you are working with."

And they do. Diavolo simply watches Buccellati in action, the way he handles himself, the way he engages in conversation. There is a lot of charisma in the young man, and a fire in his eyes that Diavolo has rarely seen in anyone. It is quite entrancing. Nero moves away from the crowd, as is his usual way, but the way he watches Buccellati is telling. Nero is always observant, but there is obvious interest in his expression. Diavolo could tell. 

It had been a while, since pleasure. 

Diavolo mulls on it, watching Buccellati laugh with the other capos, handsome and attractive. 

He decides that he will indulge. 

He presses on the intercom again, when the end of the meeting draws near, "Buccellati, I have need of you. Stay behind. Nero, you as well."

Nero's glance to where the camera is isn’t subtle, but he nods slightly. He knows what is coming. 

"If one of my other kind capos could notify the man waiting for Buccellati downstairs to join us, that would be wonderful. You're all dismissed."

The capos left one by one then, leaving Nero and Buccellati alone. Abbacchio knocks and enters the room soon enough, immediately going to Buccellati's side. 

Diavolo took his time, watching them glance at each other. Only Nero looks sure of himself, leaning against the wall. He is looking at both Buccellati and Abbacchio appraisingly. 

They all are handsome. Diavolo considers himself fortunate. 

"I have a proposition for the both of you," Diavolo says; Buccellati and Abbacchio looks up at the speakers in attention, "Call it an indulgence of sorts. If you two are willing, we could be in the pleasure of each other's company for a while. If not, you are free to go."

Buccellati and Abbacchio both look surprised, which is a normal reaction. Sexual exploits with the boss of Passione aren't commonplace. 

Nero pushes himself off the wall, and the two men glance over at him. 

"We fuck occasionally. I suppose the Boss is up for a foursome," he's not wrong, but Diavolo tsks to himself anyway, "What's the room number, Boss?"

"Room 621."

"Alright," Nero walks to the door, and opens it, "You two don't have to say yes. But you know where the room is if you're into it." Then he left. 

Buccellati and Abbacchio speak to each other in soft tones after, discussing it. It's darling, and Diavolo feels the stir of arousal low in his gut. Nero must be excited too; from the way he has been looking at the two. 

When it comes to pleasure, Diavolo accepts nothing but full consent. It is enthralling for some to consciously accept his propositions, and then lose themselves to it entirely out of their own volition. It is what he wanted from Buccellati and Abbacchio as well.

"Boss," Buccellati speaks up, voice as clear as crystal, "We'll be there."

"Splendid."

 

 

Diavolo is ready for anything. It is part of being the leader of the biggest crime organization in Italy. This extends to both business and pleasure, and Diavolo is ready to be pleased.

"Nero doesn't quite know how to behave, so you'll have to keep him still. There are handcuffs in the drawers. Abbacchio, if you will?"

Abbacchio is indeed the closest to the side of the bed, and he obliges after slight hesitation. Buccellati's quick to reach out for him when he returns onto the bed, and it is adorable, how they couldn't keep their hands off each other. The Grand Hotel Vesuvio asked no questions when Diavolo's assistant requested for a room with a one-way mirror installed. No one questions the boss of Passione much. 

The mirror isn't big, but it is enough for Diavolo. Situated in a place where neither of his subordinates could see themselves; or him later on for that matter, Diavolo has a good view of all three of them. 

Nero stretches in that almost feline way he does, unintentionally showing off. Abbacchio reaches up to tie his hands together and couldn't stop but stare at his exposed front, same as Buccellati. 

"You can touch if you want," Nero says, then tilts his head, "Can they touch, Boss?"

"Yes." 

Buccellati's touch is gentle while Abbacchio just went right for his pec, squeezing it. Nero laughs, but arches into the contact, his eyes lidded.

They grope him for a while, before Buccellati dips down to press his lips onto Nero's skin, and it's a sight, how Nero exhales in pleasure. 

Diavolo watches, absently palming himself. He should have set up to record this, but having himself on tape is unthinkable. Diavolo would just have to commit it all to memory. 

"Get comfortable. Undress for me."

They do. Both have slender, firm bodies; Buccellati has intricate tattoos over his chest and Abbacchio is remarkably pale. They are beautiful. And all his. 

"Bello," Diavolo says, and decides that he doesn't want to watch anymore, "Be good and stay."

The lights turn off.

Diavolo adjusts himself in his pants and exits the room he is in, mirror and all. It is time to take pleasure. 

It is dark but not entirely, the shadows still reveal the three separate bodies on the bed, and Diavolo is excited. Excited, he is throbbing, and he eats up the way his three subordinates stiffen when he climbs onto the bed, his weight pressing the mattress down. He reaches out and brushes someone's shoulder; the long hair meant that it is Abbacchio; and he leans in to kiss the man. Abbacchio's lipstick really is thick and Diavolo could imagine it mixing in with his own lips, but the rough, firm way Abbacchio kisses is entirely worth it. He sees Abbacchio's hand wander in his periphery.

Diavolo's hand darts down to grab it, making Abbacchio gasp in shock. Diavolo tsks, speaking against Abbacchio's lips still, "No touching, little lamb. Not unless I tell you to."

There's a flare of defiance in Abbacchio's exhalation, but he murmurs anyway, "You got it Boss."

Diavolo moves away after a small peck to Abbacchio's mouth, then turns his attention to Buccellati. Buccellati is a firm kisser as well, but he leans back to curve his body against Diavolo in such a display of submission that it made Diavolo's desire spike violently. He kisses Buccellati hard enough that the new capo starts trembling, fists kept tight at his sides to stop from reaching out to hold Diavolo.

Plenty pleased by the two young members of his gang, Diavolo turns to Nero, who is practically lounging on the bed, as relaxed as ever. Even in the dark Diavolo could see the lines of his sculpted body, muscles on full display due to his position.

"And how are you, you handsome devil?" Diavolo couldn't help but crawl over Nero, rolling his hips against Nero's once to pleasantly discover how hard the man is, "You're not even slightly uncomfortable, are you?"

There's some bite to his tone, but Nero seems to be into all this just as much as Diavolo is, "Not at all, Boss. The view was good until you turned off the lights."

"You're aroused nevertheless," Diavolo said, reaching down to squeeze at Nero's dick, biting on his lips when they fall open in a moan, "You always are."

"Boss..."

Kissing Nero is always a battle of sorts, but the challenge in their osculation turns Diavolo on like nothing else.

He parts from Nero with a sharp bite to his bottom lip, and hears the two men behind him indulging in each other; Buccellati's all wrapped around Abbacchio, they are tangled shadows in the dark.

They both notice that they're being watched somehow, and Buccellati's the one who spoke, a quiet tremor in his voice as Abbacchio's hands slip further down between his legs and explore, "What would you like us to do, Boss?"

His eyes glitter with arousal and interest, and Diavolo's very glad he decided to do this today, "I want your mouth. Would you let me?"

"Yes." There is no hesitation, and he could hear Abbacchio's hum of approval. Shifting off of Nero, Diavolo reaches for Abbacchio's hip, squeezing his waist once.

"And I want to fuck you, Abbacchio. Good?"

"Good. As long as I get off, I don't care."

Straight to the point, much like Nero. Diavolo enjoys that.

"Wonderful. You could keep Nero busy."

While they didn't agree with each other on a professional level, they are of the same line of thought often sexually.

"Yeah, sit on my face," Nero said bluntly, "I'll open you up."

Abbacchio takes his time situating himself, but Buccellati is already ready and waiting, leaning forward on his knees before Diavolo's sitting form. The blue eyes glitter still in the dark, and Diavolo once again wishes the lights are on. But no matter.

He undoes his belt and simply pulls the waistband of his jeans down. His cock is hard but not quite at its full erect length as of yet, but that will be remedied soon.

"Go on."

Buccellati shifts forward and touches Diavolo's leg, inching his hand up towards his crotch. He wraps his fingers around Diavolo's cock and strokes its entire length once, getting a feel of it.

"Oh," Buccellati said, and Diavolo laughs. How amusing. His lovers' reaction to his size is always a pleasure. A cock fitting of a man with his status, perhaps.

But that doesn't deter Buccellati. He leans down and put his mouth on Diavolo, giving it a small kiss before taking it deep enough that his hair brushes Diavolo's skin. It's good and intensely sexy, the contrast between Buccellati's soft touch and the confidence in how he swallows Diavolo down.

"That's it, ragazzo dolce," Diavolo pets Buccellati's head, because the boy is amazing; alternating soft and hard pressure in his sucking, the way his throat opens up to take more and more of Diavolo in with every bob of his head, "That's beautiful."

He works up a rhythm, one that makes Diavolo drops his head back in pleasure; he sees Abbacchio do the same, both arms on the headboard of the bed as Nero eats him out. He is quiet in his pleasure, but the wet noises are lewd enough as it is. 

Diavolo lets it continue, basking in the soft noises of sex, relishing in the gradual, steady rise of pleasure. Then Buccellati starts doing something with his tongue that drives Diavolo absolutely crazy. 

"Caro," he puts a hand on Buccellati's head, voice thick with lust, "Enough."

The young capo pulls back wetly, just breathing over Diavolo's length for a while. 

He looks up, lips shiny with spit, "Boss?"

"You'll make me come, Buccellati. Not what we've planned now, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Buccellati says softly, and sits up, blown pupils almost like a doe's. Diavolo would very much like to see him be fucked. 

Abbacchio moans from behind them, and moves off of Nero's face, almost visibly shaky even in the dark. 

Nero makes a noise too, his hips rolling up once, hopelessly turned on now, "Oh, he's open alright."

"Good job," Diavolo says, and gets halfway off the bed to reach for a drawer of the bedside table. Condoms and a bottle of lube is in it, and he takes them, shifting back onto the bed. It's easy to wear the condom, and slather a fair amount of lube on himself. He reaches for Abbacchio and grabs him by the hips, physically pulling him off of Nero and closer to himself. Abbacchio makes another broken noise, but pushes back against Diavolo's hard length anyway, his dick sliding over Abbacchio's hole.

Diavolo hisses in pleasure, but he doesn't take it further just yet. 

"Buccellati," he says, and hands the bottle of lube and a condom over, "Cavallo nero. Ride."

It doesn't take Buccellati long to understand, and he crawls over to Nero's supine form, straddling him. In the shadows, he reaches behind himself after popping the cap of the lube bottle open and slathering his fingers, and Abbacchio murmurs something Diavolo couldn't quite catch. 

In their position now, they're facing each other. Diavolo supposes it is a kindness. 

"I'm ready." Buccellati says with a sigh, and lowers himself slightly, making Nero hiss in want. 

"Bene. Vai avanti. " Diavolo simply says, and pushes into Abbacchio at a steady pace. He's slick and Abbacchio's well prepared, and he glides into the man easily enough.

He threads fingers into Abbacchio's hair, tugs a little. Abbacchio throws his head back in response, his spine arching in a way that pushes Diavolo even deeper inside, "Fuck, yes."

Opposite them, Buccellati is steadily sinking onto Nero's dick, his body curving forward. Abbacchio reaches out for him the very moment he is fully seated, and kisses him passionately. Their display is almost touching. Diavolo thrusts once, and Abbacchio falls forward, clutching onto Buccellati's shoulders.

Motion.

Abbacchio's tight and hot, and it's satisfying to pull his head back by the hair and hear him groaning in pleasure. Buccellati's riding Nero at a slower pace, but he's watching Abbacchio with those glittering eyes, pupils blown yet sharp. Highly attentive even in his pleasure. If this is a test, he'd be scoring top marks.

Nero bucks up in counterpoint to Buccellati's bouncing and the moan it tears out of Buccellati's throat is gorgeous.

Abbacchio's pushing his hips back against Diavolo, and they grind, pleasure like hot liquid through Diavolo's veins. He's losing himself in it, and there's nothing Diavolo enjoys more than the sight of someone's inhibitions gone completely, surrendering themselves to him. He pulls on Abbacchio's hair harder and leans forward to whisper in his ear, "Touch yourself."

Abbacchio does exactly that, almost falling forward as he wraps a hand around his own dick, and jerks himself off as hard as Diavolo is thrusting into him.

It doesn't take him long then.

Abbacchio's body locks up and then shakes hard, coming into his own fist. His ass clenches on Diavolo deliciously and it takes every ounce of effort for Diavolo to slow down. But then Abbacchio looks over his shoulder, voice the breathiest Diavolo has heard yet, "Keep going."

Diavolo's feeling generous, so he obliges. He's very close, and he's pushed over the edge when Abbacchio leans to kiss Buccellati again, using his come-soaked hand to jack Buccellati off as well.

He really hasn't indulged in sex for a while; his orgasm seems to last forever, and he groans into Abbacchio's shoulder roughly. Somewhere in the haze, he hears Nero's low, rough grunting. It's a sign he's going to come—and he does, based on how Buccellati moans into Abbacchio's mouth.

Diavolo pulls out of Abbacchio and takes a moment to bask in the afterglow, at the loose limbed feeling spreading through his body.

"Fucking hell," Nero groans, rolling his hips a few, stuttering times, "You ride hard, capo."

"Come here," Diavolo says, and Buccellati crawls over, the brightness of his eyes just slightly glazed over, "Sit back."

Buccellati does as he's told, and gasps in surprise when Diavolo bends over, pursing lips over the head of Buccellati's dick. It's been a while since he's done this but it isn't complicated; he swirls his tongue around it and Buccellati claps his hand over his mouth, moaning brokenly.

"Boss—Boss, I'm there—"

All Diavolo does is put his hands on Buccellati's hips and pulls him closer, throats him deeper.

Buccellati comes and Diavolo swallows it all. It has been a while since he'd done this for anyone, but today is for indulging. Diavolo is going all the way.

He pulls off Buccellati's wet cock and leans up to kiss him, relishing in Buccellati's whimper. He then turns to Abbacchio and kisses him; Abbacchio licks into his mouth greedily—he is weak for Buccellati, without a doubt. A detail Diavolo makes sure to remember. He parts from the man with an amused chuckle, and reaches over to bestow one final kiss to Nero, a brief, parting touch. 

"Untie Nero soon. Take as much time as you need before you leave." 

He gets off the bed and discards the condom he had on, tying it off and making sure to bring it outside with him. There needs to be no trace of him left in the room. 

"Welcome to the higher ranks of Passione, Bruno Buccellati."

He exits the room and left his subordinates to their own devices. 

The aftereffects of sex is putting him in a good, good mood; and he still grudgingly wishes he had set up a camera of sorts with night vision to see everything that had transpired in that room, despite its risks. 

He returns to the suite he had rented to clean himself, and catches sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. Smears of black over his body—Abbacchio's lipstick really is potent.

And while he has intended to not leave any trace of him behind...that is not entirely true. His own black lipstick would have had to be everywhere, just like Abbacchio's is. On every single one of them. 

Diavolo considers those kiss marks his blessings.