Actions

Work Header

Back Seat

Work Text:

Bianchi took one look at the long, dark car that had pulled up for them and drawled, "Really, Cavallone?" in tones to wither a guy's manhood.

Fortunately, Dino felt very secure in his masculinity.

"One does have to keep up with appearances," he said, getting the door for her himself.

"Is that what you're calling it?" Bianchi lingered long enough to roll her eyes at him before sliding into the back seat. When Dino climbed in after her, she was looking around the interior with a twist to her lips that was darker than Dino felt was called for, given the generally good mood of the evening—dinner had been good, the conversation better, and the movie... actually, he had no idea about the movie, but the making out had been fantastic. "I haven't ridden in the back seat of a limo since I was a little girl."

Ah. So it was family issues, then. "But the front seat?" he asked as he settled himself across from her, since talking about work seemed to be her preferred method of deferring unpleasant conversations.

She took the opening and ran with it, not surprisingly. "Mm, yeah. Did a stint as a bodyguard for Mario Caraceni, once, when things were tense between them and the Barassi." She looked distant, recalling it, while Dino tried to place the period—it must have been just before the Vongola had retained her to help with Tsuna. "Spent a lot of time riding shotgun. Not as comfortable up front as it is back here." She smiled and wriggled against the seat, settling herself against it.

Dino watched her, enjoying way her dress rode up a bit to show off a little more of her legs as well as the fact that the dark twist of her lips had eased. She caught him looking and he spread his hands, shrugging at her. What was he supposed to do, pretend that he was dead?

Bianchi shook her head, mouth curling again, differently. "That was an awkward job all around." It sounded casual, but her smile wasn't, nor was the way she crossed her legs. The hem of her dress crept a little higher and betrayed the lacy edge of her stockings.

Dino found that he had to swallow. "Awkward?" he asked as she draped a hand over her knee and tapped her fingers against the dimples there.

"Kind of, yeah. He liked to fuck his call girls in the back seat." Bianchi shook her head again. "Think he got off more on that than anything else. Charming fellow. I wasn't sorry when the Barassi got him."

"Met him a couple of times when I was working with his father," Dino said, his mind not entirely on the late unlamented Mario Caraceni. "Can't say as I'm surprised."

"Indeed." Bianchi leaned back, arranging herself against the seat and resting her head against the cushions to show off the long, creamy line of her throat. Her eyes glittered at him from beneath the sweep of her lashes. "So how long did you say this drive was going to be?"

"Could be long enough," Dino allowed, watching her slide a hand up her own thigh, stroking it over sheer black stockings and tracing it along the lace edging the top of them, dark against the paleness of her skin. He tore his eyes away from that fascinating display and raised them to hers. "You know that I'd rather shoot myself than make you feel like a call girl, though, don't you?"

The look she gave him then was one of the ones Dino felt certain man was not meant to be able to decipher: her eyes darkened and her smile—froze—for just an instant. Then she laughed. "Oh, Cavallone." Her smile returned, soft around the edges, as she propelled herself out of her relaxed pose and prowled across the little space between them. He barely had time to register that she was moving before she was kneeling astride his lap, using one hand to balance herself against his shoulder and sliding the other through his hair, smoothing it back from his eyes. "I don't believe that's something you need to concern yourself with," she announced, matter-of-fact tone distinctly at odds with the curve of her smile as she looked down at him.

"If you're sure," Dino said, still entertaining a few doubts, though it seemed churlish to question a lady when she was making a clear offer.

"Stop worrying so much and kiss me," Bianchi commanded, which was unequivocal enough for Dino. He set a hand on her hip and reached the other up to her to slide around her nape and draw her down to him. She came easily, opening her mouth to his and humming her pleasure to him as they resumed where they'd left off earlier as the movie's credits had begun to roll. Dino slid his tongue against hers, traced it against the textures of her mouth and the full curve of her lips, and let his qualms slip away in the face of her clear enthusiasm for the moment.

Bianchi lifted her mouth from his several breathless kisses later and smiled down at him. "Stop being such a gentleman already, Cavallone. We're not in the damn theater anymore."

Dino raised his eyebrows at her. "Maybe I just like kissing you." On the other hand, far be it for him to say no to a lady, either, so he angled his head and kissed the underside of her jaw, catching the scent of her hair and the delicate traces of her perfume. "Better?" he inquired, between kisses down her throat.

"I swear, if you want anything done, you have to do it yourself," Bianchi said, her voice dropping just a bit when Dino mouthed a tendon. She wriggled over him actively enough that he had to set his other hand on her hip as a precaution against her losing her balance. He didn't quite process the way the fabric of her dress shifted under his hands at first, sliding down her hips loosely. "There," Bianchi said then, a trifle breathless.

She sank her fingers into his hair and drew him away from her throat. Dino's mind blanked for a moment as he found himself confronting the expanse of her breasts in their lacy black bra. She'd unzipped her dress herself, he realized; the black silk of it was pooling around her waist. "Holy mother of God," he breathed, because a sight like that deserved a moment of reverence.

"No, really, take a hint, Cavallone," Bianchi said, leaning forward, her intentions fairly clear.

"Yes ma'am," Dino murmured and buried his face between her breasts, tracing his lips along the lace that edged the cups of her bra and nuzzling the hollow between them, scenting the traces of her perfume there, too, sweet against the damp heat of her skin. Bianchi slid her fingers into his hair; he let the pressure of them guide him along the full curve of her breast to mouth her through the lace. She gasped above him, soft, and her fingers tightened in his hair as he ran his tongue over the peak of her nipple, stroking it until he coaxed a moan out of her throat.

She swayed against him when he ran his hand up her side, fanning his fingers over her ribs and learning the sleek texture of her skin. "Better," she breathed, before Dino slid it higher and cupped her breast, easing it out of the cup and rubbing his thumb over her skin. "Much better."

"We aim to please," he said, which made her laugh until he reached around her to unhook her bra so he could get at her breasts the way they deserved. Bianchi wasn't shy about what she liked; she tugged at his hair to guide his mouth to where she wanted it and moaned her approval when he tried just the barest edge of his teeth against her skin. He kissed and touched her slowly, till his slacks were tight just from the sounds she was making and she drew his hand away from where he was sliding it over her back.

"Tell me you have a condom," she said, her voice husky and her color running high over her cheeks and throat and chest. "Please have a condom."

Dino's pulse quickened just from the hungry edge to her voice. "Inside jacket pocket," he admitted.

Bianchi sighed. "Thank God."

"Thank Romario. He never lets me out of the house without being sure that I'm not going to make unauthorized Cavallones," Dino told her, breath hitching as she drew his hand down and deposited it, quite pointedly, on the bare skin of her thigh.

"What a wise man," she said, tone distracted, and patted at his chest—no, she was sliding her hands under the lapel of his jacket and looking for the pocket there.

"Single-minded creature," Dino noted, running his fingers under the hem of her dress to brush over the scrap of silk and lace between her thighs, feeling how soaked it was. Her hands fumbled against his chest and she gasped as he nudged his knuckles against her. Dino stroked her, rubbing her through her panties, and she shuddered, the sound she made nearly a whine, and leaned against him, her hands going still as she panted. "Yeah?" he asked, circling his thumb against her and hearing her breath hitch.

"God, yeah," she breathed, a long shudder running through her, before she resumed her search through his jacket. Dino let her get on with it and spread his hand against the curve of her back to hold her steady as he worked his fingers over her, testing what she liked. Light touches made her breath come fast, but slower, firmer strokes made her moan and sway against him.

Then she muttered, "Fucking finally," as she got her fingers into his jacket pocket and found the foil packet there.

Dino raised his eyebrows at her. "Should I have been helping?"

Bianchi narrowed her eyes at him. "You keep on doing what you're doing. I've got this."

"If you like." He edged his fingers under her panties, sliding them out of his way and running his fingers over the slickness of her. Bianchi breathed a low curse, nearly dropping the condom, and then reached for his belt. He teased his fingers against her and she cursed again, breathlessly, and all but attacked his belt and fly, tugging at them as Dino eased his fingers into her, feeling the way minute shivers rolled through her with every shift of his fingers.

"You are such a bastard," Bianchi informed him as she finally got his belt undone and his fly down.

"I'm just doing what you told me to," Dino protested with all the innocence he could contrive (and suspecting that he would eventually have to pay for that).

"Bastard," Bianchi pronounced again as she tore the condom packet open.

Dino abandoned any hope of a ready retort in favor of groaning when she got her hand inside his underwear and slid his cock free. He leaned his head back, panting, as she stroked him. "Bianchi..."

"Yeah," she said, voice low, and rolled the condom down over him, the motion quick and practical. She nudged at his hips then. "Come on, shift down a little."

He hated to take his hand away from her for the time it took to slide down the seat, but small sacrifices could be worth it when they led to greater rewards. Bianchi raised herself over his hips, hiking her dress higher, and settled against him again, holding herself over him and framing his hips with her knees as he slid her panties out of the way and guided the head of his cock against her. They held like that for a moment, then another; Dino looked up at her, caught by the picture she made and wondering what was going on behind her eyes. Then Bianchi murmured his name and sank down on him in one quick roll of her hips that stole his breath away.

"Bianchi," he said, breathless with the slick heat of her around him and the way she leaned against him, her breath quick and hot against his throat. He ran his hands up her back, stroking the curve of it, and she pressed closer, humming something wordless against his throat as she rolled her hips against his again. Dino groaned at the slow friction of that and planted his feet wider against the floorboard so he could rock up against her.

That drove a gasp out of her throat and she ground down against him, her hips rocking back and forth by the barest fraction. "Dino," she breathed, winding her arms around him and moving against him slowly, "oh fuck, yes..."

He buried his face against her breasts again and she stopped using words then as they moved against each other—she moaned her pleasure instead, voice open and husky as he kissed her breasts. But then, words didn't seem necessary, not when it was much easier to let his lips and hands on her skin and the slow rock of his hips against hers do the talking. He coaxed her deeper into her pleasure, until she was gasping over him, her body nearly trembling under his hands, and then dipped his fingers between her thighs again to stroke her until she arched and cried out, her voice thin and ragged. She cried out again when he stopped holding himself back from that same edge and drove up against her, hard and fast, before his own pleasure closed on him like a fist.

Bianchi draped herself over him after, panting; Dino found himself stroking her back and the tumble of her hair dazedly. "God," he said presently, when he could start to think again. "God, you're amazing."

Bianchi stirred against his shoulder. "You think so?"

Just as well that she had her face tucked against his shoulder; Dino wasn't sure he had enough self control at the moment to master the way he probably looked, hearing that note of diffidence underneath the offhanded tone. "Yeah," he said, settling his fingers in her hair and doing the rest of the job of freeing it from the pins holding it up. "I really do."

Bianchi didn't say anything at all to that, just sighed softly and settled against him a little more. But that was fine by him, and neither of them moved to tidy themselves up until their approach to the Cavallone estate made it necessary to do so.