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Worship Him

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Bump. Bump. Bump.

Letting out a long, bored sigh, Narancia repeatedly kicked his foot against the table and stared at the open book before him. Since Fugo had left momentarily, he wondered why he was even continuing to focus on such unamusing content, the numbers all beginning to slide together as his vision blurred in apathy. He looked down at his paper, noting the green check marks that Fugo had left to next to each of the problems so far - everything was correct. Due to Narancia’s growing aptitude for the mathematics he was studying, the light-haired boy had left the other alone, stating that he would return after brewing some tea for them both.

“As long as it’s not Abbachio tea….” Narancia had mumbled as Fugo stepped away and into the kitchen of their base.

And so the boy was left alone to stare at his work, mind wandering as he waited for his tutor to return. He yawned loudly, or rather, began to yawn before he was interrupted by the sound of the main door opening nearby. A cheerful face replaced Narancia’s pout as Buccellati walked inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“Hey! Hey! Buccellati!”

At his subordinate’s excited voice, Bruno couldn’t help but crack the tiniest of smiles as he walked over to Narancia, his eyes slowly moving towards the homework on the table. The older boy’s eyebrows raised in surprise at what he saw and he placed an affirming hand on Narancia’s shoulder.

“You’re doing so well…I’m so glad.” But suddenly, a scowl overtook his face. “Unless you put these marks here Narancia. You didn’t steal Fugo’s pen to do this…did you?

A look of horror flew over the boy’s face and he shook his head violently.

“Of course I didn’t! You can ask him when he comes back - I…”

Buccellati chuckled lightly, squeezing the other’s shoulder gently.

“I believe you. You’ve never lied to me, and I trust you. I was only teasing.”

Narancia let out a sigh of relief and small laugh, which quickly dissipated. He felt the tension of Bruno’s fingers against his skin as they gripped him tighter, and a slight chill ran down his back. His eyes glanced to the side, lingering on the digits for a moment. Without thinking, he immediately let his cheek brush against the hand that was holding onto him, stray hairs lightly tickling his capo’s skin. With a bit more intent, he pushed against them harder, nuzzling the other’s fingers warmly.

Buccellati watched, stone-faced. Although Narancia’s random displays of affection were nothing new, it always made him freeze just a bit. While he knew that he was a very important role-model to the younger boy, he was always afraid that everything else would be pushed aside by Narancia. Of course it was nice to be admired, but each time there was a gentle cuddle against his arm or a chaste kiss on his cheek, Bruno was reminded of the other’s original refusal to go back to school - to face his responsibilities. That sort of thing worried him, particularly while a textbook was opened up in front of the boy.

“Narancia….” he said softly, “that’s enough.”

The last part was said with a bit more force, and quietly, Narancia lifted his head from the soft skin of Buccellati’s hand, his mouth turning into a small frown.

“I’m sorry, Buccellati…” the smaller of the two said, a somber tone attached to his apology. And yet, as soon as the words had left his lips, he grabbed the other around the waist, practically begging for forgiveness.

“I always do that - I’m sorry…You’re not mad at me, are you?? Please don’t be, please? It was an accident, it won’t happen again, promise!”

Alarmed, Bruno raised his arms in response, looking down at the other nervously as he searched his mind for a technique to remedy the situation. Gently, he placed his hands on Narancia’s arms and kneeled down.

“It’s fine, Narancia. I’m not angry with you, or disappointed, or any of those things - in fact, I think it would be impossible to stay upset at you for more than a second…well, if I was upset, that is. But as I was saying, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He let that faint tinge of a smile grace his lips again, and it grew just a bit more as he felt Narancia’s arms move from his waist to his neck. He placed his own arms around the other in reciprocation, laughing inwardly to himself.

As soon as he was about to stand, however, he noticed Narancia lingering against him, almost refusing to let go. The other’s breathing became deep against his shoulder as the younger boy let Buccellati’s scent overtake him.

His capo’s cologne always smelled so intoxicating, as though even that scent could command a room alone. The strong notes combined with Buccellati’s natural musk were enough to get Narancia’s heart rate a bit higher. Without thinking, and, ignoring his previous promise, the boy nuzzled his face into Bruno’s jacket, taking in deep breaths of his mentor. He felt his cheeks grow hot as his lips gently grazed against the skin where Buccellati’s chest was openly displayed.

For a moment, Bruno’s mind began to race. This was slightly farther than Narancia had taken this sort of thing before, and while it wasn’t unpleasant, it seemed…awkward. Still, there was a small section of Buccellati’s mind that wanted to see what happened next, and as his subordinate began to place tiny kisses against his chest, he felt his own heartbeat picking up speed. Despite this, his face remained unreadable.

As Narancia’s fingers found their way to the main button of Bruno’s coat, a third party entered the room.

“Alright, Narancia. Ready to get back to wo-…..” Fugo stopped immediately, nearly dropping the two cups of tea that he held.

Bruno’s eyes widened in response, his hands raising in defense as Narancia left one last, lingering kiss against his skin.

“Fugo,” Buccellati began, “I was ju-”

His voice was immediately interrupted by the boy beside him.

“I was seeing if Buccellati was a liar,” Narancia stated, quite seriously.

Fugo eyed him suspiciously. “Doesn’t he usually…go for the face…when he does that?”

Buccellati let out an exasperated sigh, letting his head fall against his palms.

Smirking to himself, Fugo walked to the table, his eyes noting the green checks upon Narancia’s homework. He was satisfied that the other was finally beginning to understand what he’d been working on.

“You know, I think you’ve done good enough today, Narancia. Don’t you agree, Buccellati? Let’s be done for now.”

With deliberate steps towards the nearby couch, Fugo made no further eye contact towards the two, instead opting to place the tea cups gently upon the coffee table before him. Buccellati stood, releasing himself from Narancia, who followed suit.

Letting out a sigh, the capo took a seat next to Fugo, who offered him his own tea. Bruno refused politely, saying he could make more in a bit, and the other shrugged, letting slip a “suit yourself”.

Somewhat eagerly, Narancia flopped onto the couch next to Buccellati, taking his own tea and quickly drinking much of it down.

“What the hell are you doing?” Fugo directed to the boy across from Bruno. “That’s not at all how you’re supposed to drink tea. What are you, a heathen?”

“I like to drink it fast while it’s still hot!” Narancia stated in defense.

“Yeah, drinking it hot is a bit different from drinking it while it’s still boiling.”

As he attempted to come up with a retort, Narancia swung his cup in Fugo’s direction angrily, mouth open and ready to argue when he noticed Buccellati jump and let out a brief cry of pain. The younger boy’s eyes widened as he realized that he’d splashed some of the tea against the capo’s chest - the area he’d been tending to so sweetly not long ago.

“Buccellati! I’m! I-”

“It’s okay, Narancia. It-”

“Here, let me fix it…”

And silently, he slid a leg over Bruno, straddling him as he used his skirt to wipe up the tea dripping down the other’s chest. Bruno froze once again - this had certainly never happened.

“Ah…um…Narancia….what are you…what are y-”

His breath hitched ever so slightly as he felt the boy’s lips meet his skin once again, tongue trailing against the remaining drops of tea that threatened to slide beneath his jacket. Narancia’s arms wrapped around Bruno’s neck, and Fugo shook his head as he noticed the tea cup still being gripped by his gang-mate, slowly on its way to tipping over and emptying its contents onto the floor. He quickly removed it, placing it upon the coffee table.

As Narancia’s hands made their way back to Buccellati’s jacket button, Fugo watched, intrigued. His eyes lingered on Bruno’s face, the capo’s own eyes shutting in response to the kisses that were now being left on his exposed abdomen. Fugo placed a hand against Narancia’s back, his breathing becoming shallow at the activity next to him.

Bruno’s lips parted ever so slightly as he felt his subordinate’s mouth go lower and lower. He was trying so very hard to keep himself silent and composed, though the gradual tenting between his legs revealed how much of his composure was actually being lost.

Narancia….” he whispered into the air.

As the action was beginning to get more involved, Fugo finally decided in his mind - after much deliberation, that is - that he couldn’t simply sit by any longer. A hand made its way up behind Buccellati’s head and his fingers began to intertwine with the other’s dark strands of hair. Fugo’s gaze met Buccellati’s strong facial features, his jawline prominent even as his mouth opened to let out a strained moan. The youngest of the trio grinned at the sound before moving his free hand to Bruno’s shoulder, pulling down the sleeve of his jacket. Moving his head closer, Fugo allowed his teeth to gently graze against the capo’s skin before letting them sink in ever so slightly.

Buccellati let out a gasp at the sudden event, feeling Fugo smile against him.

As the three continued their bonding, they were all oblivious to the sound of the door opening once again.

“Ahhh, geez,” the voice came, cutting loudly through the air. A muffled noise of joints cracking accompanied the voice. “So, what’s for dinner - I swear to the BOSS, if you guys are gonna make me eat veg-…..”.

The gunner’s mouth fell open at what was going on on the couch, and he silently pulled his pistol from the front of his pants, placing it upon the kitchen table without taking his eyes off of his three companions. He walked towards the trio, gaze never once faltering.

“So, uh…did I….miss a memo…or something?”

The uncertainty in Mista’s words became apparent as his voice cracked involuntarily.

Fugo removed his teeth from Bruno’s shoulder, eyes meeting Mista’s.

“Just get over here, you idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Mista walked over to the couch and sat on the free side of Bruno, watching as Narancia’s fingers dipped gingerly beneath Buccellati’s pants.

Bruno opened his eyes to greet the new member of their little party.

“Hi……Mi…sta…” he said between gasps.

Mista raised his eyebrows, taking in everything all at once and trying to register what was happening in his brain. But rather than try to understand it all, he let his gaze meet Bruno’s hand, motionless on the couch. He took it in his own, thumb running over the soft skin. It was one thing that was surprising about Buccellati - how soft his hands were, unlike Mista’s own. The smooth paleness was in stark contrast to Mista’s tanned, hairier hands. The gunman stared at them, simply feeling them for a while. It was becoming apparent that Buccellati had qualities that no one could resist.

Slowly, Mista brought Bruno’s hand to his mouth and began to kiss the fingertips, one at a time. He grinned to himself as Buccellati bit his lip, perhaps in response to Mista’s actions, but perhaps in response to the other things that were being done to him as well. To test the waters a bit further, Mista took Buccellati’s index finger and slid it into his mouth, gently sucking as he let his tongue wrap around it.

It was then that Bruno actually let slip a word in response, thought it was only a restrained “oh!”

Mista laughed around the finger before taking in another one of Bruno’s digits, one hand still gripping the rest of his capo’s while the other made its way to his thigh, beginning to squeeze it tightly.

Buccellati craned his neck back, hair falling back from around his face and eyes opening into thin slits as he looked behind him. Immediately, his mouth snapped shut as he noticed a figure standing in the doorway that lead to the gang member’s rooms.

Ah…” he said weakly, “Abbachio.”

Arms crossed, Abbachio sauntered over to the couch, staring down at the group.

“I knew something was wrong when I heard Mista speak about food, but then heard no further arguments on our dinner tonight.”

His hands found their way to the pale skin of Buccellati’s shoulders.

“So what’s this, then, Bruno?”

His voice was smooth, sliding through the air and straight to the capo’s cock. Buccellati’s eyes fell back shut as he felt Abbachio’s tongue slide against the shell of his ear before dipping down to flick at the lobe.

The longer all of this had been going on, the more clothes had begun to be removed. Bruno’s jacket had already been tossed aside several minutes ago, his belt unbuckled and pants unzipped, Narancia’s hand fumbling with the older boy’s cock. Buccellati raised himself up as Mista helped to remove the pants completely, throwing them into a nearby chair. As soon as that was done, Mista’s hand returned to Bruno’s thigh, slowly moving upward.

Fugo had already undone his own pants, hand stroking his length eagerly as he watched Narancia slide onto the floor, his mouth poised to wrap around the capo. He still kept a hand in Bruno’s hair, pulling it every now and then, delighting in the breathy reaction that the other gave.

Abbachio leaned down and let his arms fall against Buccellati’s chest, his fingers trailing along his friend’s elegant tattoo before finding their way to his nipples and teasing the nubs, varying between rubbing and pinching them.

As Narancia took Bruno’s length into his mouth, the capo gritted his teeth in response. This sort of pleasure from the others….this wasn’t how the afternoon was supposed to go….this wasn’t supposed to be happening. How any of this had started was becoming a blur as Buccellati was swept away into ecstasy. Had Narancia done this before? No….it wasn’t something he wanted to consider. He let the thought slide away and placed a hand upon the shoulder of the boy below him, encouraging him to continue - to let his cock keep hitting the back of Narancia’s throat, to let his tongue keep sliding along the sensitive skin. All of Buccellati’s serious thoughts left him as he felt a coarse hand loosely massaging his balls.

Mista watched Narancia intensely as the boy continued to suck the capo off. It was a wonder that the kid could even take so much down….though….it wasn’t a secret that the boy had a big mouth - in more than one way, for sure.

Not wanting to get left behind, the second-in-command got onto the floor next to Narancia and moved his mouth up between Bruno’s legs. He slid his tongue against one of the smooth balls before letting it fall into his mouth. Sucking very gently, he heard Bruno let out a desperate noise - perhaps the most desperate noise he’d ever heard his capo make. Mista instantly felt himself grow harder, and let a hand fall down between his legs, unzipping his pants and gripping himself tightly.

Abbachio, beginning to grow bored with Narancia’s display, waltzed around to the front of the couch and pulled the boy into his arms. Placing his lips against the neck of the younger Passione member, he bit ever so slightly and whispered against him, “it’s my turn.” Before proceeding, the silver-haired male moved his face towards Bruno’s and pressed his lips against those of the other. His tongue slid in, teeth biting very softly at his friend’s lips. Buccellati accepted this, his own tongue intertwining with that of Abbachio, who broke the kiss before gracefully getting onto his knees and letting his eyes meet the cerulean ones above him for several moments. The two had shared intimate times together, though it had been kept a secret from the beginning. Still, Bruno felt his heart pound a bit harder in his chest and Abbachio leaned down to expertly wrap his mouth around him.

Bruno bit back a moan as he was serviced by both Mista and Abbachio. Narancia, meanwhile, had found a seat upon Fugo’s lap, arm wrapping around his tutor’s neck as the youngest member continued to handle himself.

“Let me do it, Fugo,” Narancia whispered, his hand wrapping around Fugo’s fingers.

Fugo removed his hand and raised an eyebrow at the other.

“Have you ever realized how much of a little slut you actually are?” he asked, a bit of teasing venom in his voice.

Narancia scowled before leaning over to bite down hard on Fugo’s earlobe.

“I’m not little, you asshole. I’m older than you.”

The lighter-haired male grimaced and pushed the other downward, grabbing Narancia’s hair tightly.

“Just do your job, ya prick.”

After Abbachio had begun to deep-throat Buccellati for several long moments, and after he had heard the small moan that usually signaled the capo’s closeness, he lifted himself from the other’s cock, Mista bringing himself up as well, wiping a hand against his saliva-covered mouth.

The second-in-command let out a groan as he felt himself getting closer to his climax, his hand beginning to speed up the pace as he jerked himself off. Finally, the gunner came, his bare stomach being stained with cum. Letting out a long sigh, his head slid down onto the arm of the couch and he shut his eyes, relaxing.

On the opposite side sat….no one. Screwing up his face, Bruno wondered to himself where Fugo and Narancia had made off to before noticing them both lying on the floor, Fugo’s fingers running gently through Narancia’s hair as the smaller boy dozed off. The tiniest smile graced Buccellati’s lips.

With Buccellati distracted, and without speaking, Abbachio began to remove his own clothes, tossing them into the chair where several other articles of clothing had found a place to call home. He reached a hand down to stroke his friend’s cheek, and then climbed onto him, eyes meeting the other’s with intensity. Abbachio took the sides of Bruno’s head between his palms and placed a soft kiss upon his capo’s forehead.

Leone….” the name breathlessly escaped Bruno’s lips and his eyes met Abbachio’s once again. Violet irises gazed with knowing into Buccellati’s

The boy with silver hair leaned into the other’s ear and softly asked, “is this okay?”

Buccellati placed a hand against Abbachio’s cheek and nodded.

Slowly, silently, Bruno raised a few fingers to his own mouth and coated them with saliva, never once breaking his gaze with Abbachio. He placed his fingers below the two of them, locating his subordinate’s entrance and sliding one digit in, gently moving against the walls, stretching Abbachio out before sliding another finger, then another, into him as well. With each finger, Abbachio’s natural intensity grew weaker, and it was moments where he was together with Bruno, like this, that he knew of his only weakness.

“Ready?” Buccellati asked warmly.

“For you?” Abbachio asked, with the last remaining bit of intensity he had. “Always.”

He felt Bruno position himself and slide into him, moving slowly at first, taking in the feeling of being surrounded by Abbachio. The pair found their lips meeting again, tongues dancing around one another as they continued to be intertwined elsewhere. Buccellati let a hand grasp at Abbachio’s member while the lower-ranking male bounced atop the other. He let out a soft moan as the rate of the thrusts into him increased, Buccellati straining to remain quiet amongst his sleeping friends. Finally, Bruno’s head fell against Abbachio’s bare chest.

“I’m…there,” he whispered between gasping breaths, “I..can’t….I’m…there….ah, God.”

Abbachio laughed to himself at Bruno’s calm demeanor, held even during an orgasm. Still, he loved the feeling of the other releasing himself inside, dick pulsing with each spurt. Enjoying that lingering sensation, Abbachio felt himself release against the other, covering Bruno’s tattoo with slick white.

When it was all done, Abbachio slid off and smirked as he looked around the room, Buccellati letting out a long sigh.

“Well….” he began. “I’m….really not sure what I did to deserve all this, but…I think we should clean everyone up.”

Abbachio grabbed his clothes from the chair and cocked his head back at Buccellati, arching an eyebrow at him.

“You have fun with that.”

As the taller male exited the living room to return to his own bedroom, Bruno could do little more than smile to himself. And this time, it grew to a full-on smile.

As gently as possible, he woke the others, helping them get cleaned up and to make their way to their own rooms. Dinner would have to be forgone tonight, it seemed. Fugo was the easiest to awaken, and he left without saying a word. Mista was a bit more difficult, being a heavy sleeper, but eventually Buccellati was able to help him up from the couch and into the shower.

Finally, it was Narancia’s turn. The capo stared down at the boy, whose arm remained in the exact spot where Fugo had been laying not long ago. Bruno shook his head and chuckled, moving down and picking the smaller male up. He knew that Narancia would have hated this had he been awake, but thankfully, the kid was already far off into the depths of sleep.

Quietly, he slid into the room shared by Narancia and Fugo, and laid the other onto the bed.

Shutting the door and walking to his own room, he sighed.

“As much as I love you all,” he said, somewhat somberly to himself, “this sort of thing can’t happen again.”

These were Buccellati’s first words at breakfast the next morning.