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This meeting had been a trial of restraint. Fugo, as head of financials, had been giving a presentation on the revenue from all of the new pies Passione had been sticking its fingers in.
During his presentation, Fugo has been ignoring a certain…distraction. That distraction took form of the one and only Don Giorno Giovanna who had found it appropriate to rest his hand on his thigh halfway through Fugo’s speech. Mostly resting on the outside, but occasionally slipping to caress his skin through one of the many holes in his suit, the hand rarely stopped their slow circular strokes.
Fugo knew this was just as much a game for the two of them as it was a simple intimidation tactic; Fugo was still well known for his powerful stand and tendency to snap in destructive ways that never ended well for the person testing his patience. He was a dangerous creature that Don Giorno had tamed. It was like Giorno keeping a tamed tiger at his side, except this tiger could literally melt your face off.
Fugo refused to be distracted, unlike some of the capos he sees Giorno giving steely glares. He’s standing up and he would quite like to avoid embarrassing himself in that way. And besides, he knows GioGio will take very good care of him after this.
“Thank you for your time, you are dismissed.”
Fugo held back a sigh of relief as he watched the capos file out of the office at Giorno’s dismissal. Fugo moves to clean up the presentation space when the hand that never left his thigh clenches. He turns to meet Giorno’s eyes. Giorno is giving him a look that makes Fugo blush.
“I think that can wait, don’t you? I’d rather you join me here.”
Fugo has never turned down that offer before, and that doesn’t change now. He allows himself to be guided to straddle Giorno’s lap, which was honestly quite comfortable. Giorno had filled out quite a bit over the years, and while Fugo was still slightly taller, he had stayed an absolute beansprout. Unsure what to do with his hands, Fugo simply sets them on Giorno’s shoulders.
Giorno gives him a smile and leans over to give him a gentle kiss on the lips as he resumes, with both hands now, the soft caresses. They seemed to be completely focused on the outside of his suit now.
“You did good today Panna, I’m very proud of you.”
Fugo could feel his cheeks heating up more but doesn’t look away.
“Thank you, but I didn’t really do all that much. You did just as much work making that presentation as I did.”
Giorno hums and Fugo feels the hands move away from his thighs and move up his sides, and he’s unable to hold back a slight squirm.
“Nevertheless, I think you performed well today. Your ability to articulate such specific details is one to be admired. You deserve a reward. So what will it be?”
Giorno’s hands wandered back down to his thighs and Fugo felt the blood rush away from his brain to follow their trip south. They are so close to where he really wants them.
“Touch me, just touch me please!”
Fugo already feels so worked up, and Giorno hasn’t even done anything yet, not really. He watches a small, satisfied smirk flash on Giorno’s face, and Fugo knows he’s somehow played directly into this man’s hands. He can’t even begin to guess how when he feels both hands caress his bare skin once again, completely cutting off his train of thought as he feels all of the rest of his analytical functions shut down. Giorno leaves Fugo’s clothes on, hands once again touching his bare skin but only occasionally dipping under to touch spots that weren’t already on display by Fugo’s normal attire. This is not what Fugo meant, and Giorno must know that. Fugo only makes it a few minutes before he can’t bare it. He’s broken when Giorno’s fingers begin lightly massaging his nipples through his suit. He decides to try again.
“Giorno, please, touch my-my,” Fugo is flushing hard, but he knows he won’t get what he wants until he asks, “please touch my cock.”
Giorno’s eyes go wide in mock surprise.
“You want another reward? Was the first one not enough for you, dear? Hmmm, I suppose you were very good…I suppose I can oblige this request, too. And perhaps I can justify a few more.”
Giorno tilts his head at him, before making a decision.
“And I suppose I could take these clothes off as well, you seem to be getting quite flushed, Pannacotta. I wouldn’t want you to overheat.”
With that, Fugo can feel the clothes around him morph into vines that comfortably squeeze him, but don’t restrain. At least not yet. Then he feels a hand, featherlight, on his cock…through his thong. He looks down in disbelief, and when he pulls his face up to complain he’s met with Giorno’s serene smile, which just flusters him more. The contrast between Giorno’s calm demeanor and fully clothed self and Fugo’s own was both tantalizing and frustrating. Especially when coupled by that hand whose touch didn’t become any more firm no matter how much Fugo tried to push into it. He’s starting to get frustrated.
“GioGio! You know that’s not what I meant! Please, take my thong off, too. I want to feel you hand without a barrier. Please.”
The hand stops completely and Fugo catches that same smirk from earlier on Giorno’s face before it changes. Giorno sternly frowns up at Fugo.
“Just because this is a reward doesn’t mean you are allowed to start acting bratty Fugo. That’s not the way to get what you want. I’ve already honored two of your requests. I was thinking of honoring a few more, but after that display of attitude I believe this will be the last one.”
That scolding makes Fugo let out low whine. He knew better than that. He mumbles out an apology as he feels his thong become petals. And then finally Giorno wraps his hand around his dick and begins stroking… but the touches are still way too soft, and they don’t provide anywhere close to the amount of friction Fugo needs. He squirms, desperate to increase the pressure on his cock but to no avail and he whines in frustration. The strokes continue to feel barely there in a way that works him up and will only leave him wanting more. He can feel a few tears welling up in his eyes.
“Oh, Panna what’s wrong? This is what you asked for, were you wanting something else?”
Giorno wipes the tears from his cheek gently with his free hand. And it’s at that moment Fugo realizes the game Giorno has been playing, he should have been more precise in his wording, but it was too late now. Giorno had already said that this was his final request he would accept… he can’t help asking anyway.
“Please. Please. I didn’t get it before. Give me one more chance, I promise this will be the last one. Please, GioGio.”
Giorno makes a disapproving clucking noise and his movements don’t change. Still a slow barely there pumping of his cock; occasionally a stroke would put pressure on his head that makes Fugo think ‘perhaps it will get better’ before returning to that frustrating rhythm.
“You clearly already know the answer to that Pannacotta, so don’t make me repeat myself.”
Fugo keens in frustration and he can feel more tears pour down his cheeks and he looks away. A second later Giorno moves his face gently, putting his palm on Fugo’s cheek and guiding it back to look at him and admonishes him with a sweet but firm tone. That just makes Fugo blush harder.
“You know better than to look away, Fugo. You asked me to touch you and I am. You need to fulfill your end, too.”
Fugo does know better. Fugo not being allowed to look way is one of the two constant rules of their interactions. Giorno had explained it to him:
‘I love seeing your face when you fall apart at my hands. The way your face scrunches up, the way your face goes adorably red, the way you cry…and when I let you come the bliss that fills your face…I don’t want to miss a single second of it.’
“Sorry, GioGio,” Fugo mumbles. Giorno responds with a hum as he continues to torture Fugo with that frustrating pace and pressure around his cock. No matter how Fugo bucks or squirms or twists Giorno is somehow able to keep the touch exactly the same. Despite the softness of Giorno’s touch Fugo is already beginning to feel oversensitive. The slow drag of the hand pulling his foreskin up and down over his head pulls out near constant wet gasps in the otherwise quiet room, and the occasional rubbing of his head with the tips of Giorno’s fingers drag out high pitched keens.
Finally, finally, Giorno must decide to give him mercy, as the strokes on Fugo’s cock are becoming firmer. The touch is no longer quite as tantalizingly soft in a way that could never drive him over the edge, not as tight as Fugo prefers it’s tight enough.
Giorno’s brings his second hand over to his cock and runs a fingernail down the slit causing Fugo to let out a choked off moan and jolt almost violently in pleasure as he pushes into the touch. This earns him a chuckle from Giorno which Fugo responds to with an embarrassed whine as Giorno begins to rub his palm in a circular motion over the already sensitive head of his cock. Fugo moans as he bucks into it and cries more in relief when Giorno doesn’t pull the hand back. Giorno lets Fugo rut against the palm, slicking it with precum, while he continues the stroking with his other hand.
Fugo’s mind is hazy and he can feel himself get close to the edge. He’s going to come, but he knows better than to just do it. Asking for permission is his second rule of the games they play.
“G-GioGio,” he gasps out, “I’m close, please-please can I come?”
Fugo watches Giorno’s face, impatient for a response and hoping to see it before he hears it. Fugo does see the answer in his expression, but it was not the one he was looking for. To his dismay Giorno completely stops his hand’s movements before responding.
“Did I or did I not tell you that I would be accepting no more of your requests? That’s a no, dear. Perhaps next time.”
No! Fugo lets out a panicked cry before begging.
“Please GioGio, please! I can’t wait for a next time. I need it now. Please, please.”
Giorno resumes his movements, once again rubbing Fugo’s tip in circles on his palm as Fugo tries to squirm away. He can’t take it, if this doesn’t stop he’s going to come, he’s been holding back since his presentation and he can’t fight this much longer. Giorno tuts and shakes his head Fugo wants to scream.
“I will not be repeating myself Fugo. I gave you the chance to ask for what you wanted and I’m giving it to you. It’s not like you to be so ungrateful. Now be a good boy and take it.”
Fugo lets out a cry as he squirms in Giorno’s lap, tears once again steadily pouring down his cheeks. He can’t take the intensity of Giorno’s gaze and turns his head away again in desperation. The hand rubbing his cockhead disappears and a second later his face is forcefully jerked back. Giorno holds him, chin gripped in his thumb and forefinger, and forces Fugo’s gaze back.
“How many times is that Fugo? Twice? Do not do this a third time, do you understand?”
The stroking of his cock, the intensity of Giorno’s gaze, the firmness of the tone that scolded him, the wet stickiness of the fingers holding his face-his own precum… the situation is too much. Fugo opens his mouth to respond but what comes out is a harsh and drawn-out moan as he comes all over Giorno’s hand and suit. His hands spasm on Giorno’s shoulders as Giorno continues to hold his face and strokes him through it as Fugo shudders and cries.
But Giorno doesn’t stop once Fugo’s spent, the hand continues to give his cock firm strokes. Fugo had already been riding the line of oversensitivity before he came, this was agony. He keens and moves his hands down, frantically trying to push Giorno away. He doesn’t succeed. Fugo’s hands are caught in golden grips from behind and pushed down onto the armrests; The vines that were once just a pleasant presence become restraints holding his arms down to them, preventing him from jerking away.
Fugo feels the figure behind him get a firm grip in his hair before Giorno’s hand lets go of his face. Giorno’s palm once again begins rubbing Fugo’s tip, the circular motions feeling so much harsher than before. Fugo whimpers and cries and keens, he squirms and struggles against his bonds but all he gets is a firm tug to his hair and the continued torture of his dick.
After what feels like an eternity, but was likely only a few minutes, Giorno relents and releases him. The vines loosen and completely fall off his body, and the hand in his hair also disappears. Fugo leans down onto Giorno’s shoulder, muffling his hiccupping cries. Giorno allows him a few moments to collect himself before he addresses him again.
“Fugo.”
Fugo pulls himself back up with hitching breaths and looks at Giorno’s sternly set face. Fugo could tell that this was getting to him too, though. Despite his expression Giorno’s face had a flush of its own.
“What is this?”
He’s gesturing with his white covered hand, and if Fugo could get any redder it would. He looks away before quickly looks back. He’s already broken a rule, he knows he would regret it if he disobeyed Giorno more. Giorno raises his eyebrow and Fugo quickly stutters out a slightly mumbled answer.
“My-uh… it’s my cum, GioGio.”
Giorno hums and then speaks, “What it is is unacceptable. I very clearly told you no, and you went and did it anyway. You know what this means. I wasn’t done playing with you.”
Fugo definitely knows, and begins to slightly panic. If he breaks the permission rule, they must do whatever broke him again to ‘help with his endurance for the next time’, but Fugo genuinely doesn’t think he can do it again. He can’t handle the slow soft touches on his sensitive dick again, he really truly can’t. True anxiety begins to spike in his heart, he’s not at the point where he needs his safeword but he feels close.
“GioGio I can’t.”
Giorno stares at him for a second before his eyes grow slightly softer, and when he speaks his voice is softer, too.
“Alright, but that doesn’t mean we’re done, and we will be repeating this another time. You need to clean up the mess you’ve made. And when you are finished I expect you to answer me this: How do you plan on making it up to me?”
Fugo feels himself calm even as his face heats. As embarrassing as it was to do, he appreciated Giorno giving him more time to collect himself before they continued. He feels the arms being released and he reaches out for Giorno’s hand bring it to his mouth. He methodically begins to lick the cum from Giorno’s hand. He watches as Giorno flushes more but he keeps a straight face. When he’s thoroughly licked clean that hand he grabs the other and begins the process again. Fugo gets carried away sucking on Giorno’s fingers. He feels Giorno yank him back with his hair and give him a look that sends Fugo literally to his knees.
On his way down he cleans up the cum he splattered all over Giorno’s nice suit, the hand in his hair now slightly guiding him so he doesn’t miss anything. When his knees finally hit the floor Fugo looks up at Giorno before leaning forward to lick at the spots that had dripped onto the prominent bulge in Giorno’s pants. This earns him a groan, spurring him further to earn more of Giorno’s sounds. After not too long, the hand yanks Fugo away, causing him to whine, looking up at Giorno, who was lightly panting.
Giorno seems to gather himself again, before he addresses Fugo.
“Good boy. Well? What have you decided?”
Fugo fights against the hand in his hair in attempt to return to the licking, just earning himself a tug back and another look.
“I could suck you off…”
Fugo did his best to make his mouth look as appealing as possible. He licks his lips and holds his mouth slightly open as drool slides down his face.
Giorno looks down at him with slight exasperation.
“That’s a rather cheeky suggestion who’s already in trouble and trying to make it up to me for a punishment. We both know that’s much more a reward for you than it is you apologizing to me.”
Fugo feels his full body go hot. It really was a reward. As much as Giorno liked receiving, Fugo loved giving it, the heat in his mouth, the way it stretched him…he felt Giorno yank his hair again and he moaned and tried to focus again.
“I’m sorry, I…I could ride you?”
Instead of answering Giorno directs Fugo back onto his lap, before reaching over to one of the desk drawers. The fact that he fumbles for a moment is the only thing giving away his excitement as he’s otherwise recovered his composure; his serious expression makes Fugo shiver in excitement. When he pulls back there is a bottle of lube in his hand which he quickly deposits on his fingers, looking Fugo in the eye as he reaches back.
Fugo lets out a squeak as he feels one of the fingers push straight in; it doesn’t hurt, but it is cold and quicker than they usually go. He grips onto the arm-rests and tries to relax himself. Giorno is quick to add a second, scissoring motions alternated with rubbing against Fugo’s walls everywhere but where he wants it. Fugo tries to squirm to get the angle the way he prefers but Giorno’s free hand grabs his hip firmly and prevents most of his attempts.
Fugo looks up at Giorno petulantly. He can feel his lips forming a pout which would be much more embarrassing in any situation besides this one. His look doesn’t sway Giorno, but he does receive a kiss quickly followed by a third finger. The stretch feels amazing, but it has him yearning for a stretch that is much more solid. Giorno mercifully grants that wish not a second too soon. Gold hands appear to do away with Giorno’s clothes, leaving more petals. Giorno then scoots forward to the edge of the seat, arranging them until the angle is right, and lubes his cock up.
“Go on Panna, make it good for me.”
“Yes, GioGio.”
Fugo puts his hands back on Giorno’s shoulders to balance himself and begins lowering on Giorno’s cock. The stretch is feels amazing, Fugo lets out a long moan that doesn’t stop until he’s completely seated, panting as he allows himself a moment to just enjoy the feeling of being full. Giorno’s hands hold his hips tight as Fugo raises himself almost all the way off before sinking back down, tightening as he goes. This earns him a deep groan from Giorno, who’s expression is a lot less put together than before. They continue like that for a few minutes, Fugo slowly rising himself up and slowly sinking down. Fugo feels himself becoming hard again and tries to quicken the pace, but the angle makes it difficult. This chair wasn’t made for this in mind, and while it feels good–it always feels good with Giorno–it isn’t quite satisfying.
Giorno apparently was in a similar mindset because almost as soon as Fugo thinks this he feels himself being picked up and dropped on to the desk behind him. Giorno takes his left thigh and pushes it to Fugo’s chest, grabs his right leg and encourages it to wrap around his back, then grabs his own cock and pushes all the way back in. Hard. Fugo slams his head back on the desk and lets out a short shout. Fuck. Fuck the angle was perfect, that first thrust hitting his prostate straight on. His hands scrabbled on the desk as Giorno slowly pulled out and pushed back in, somehow harder than the first time, hitting him just right again.
Fugo forced his eyes back open and looks up at Giorno. His gaze was hungry in a way that sent more heat straight to Fugo’s dick. Fugo let out a moan that transformed into a high keen as Giorno once again rammed him right in his sweet spot. Giorno looms down over Fugo, not letting up on the steady rhythm of slow pull back and hard, perfect push in, and speaks.
“Does it feel good, Panna?”
Fugo opens his mouth to respond but all that comes out is another moan, so he nods his head instead. Giorno is apparently not satisfied with this answer.
“Come on Fugo, be a good boy and use your words. If I don’t know I might have to stop.”
Fugo lets out a pitiful whine and shakes his head. That is the absolute last thing Fugo wants right now, so he reaches through the haze of pleasure to give Giorno a verbal answer.
“Yes! Yes fuck it’s so–ahhh!–it’s so good it’s perfect. Ohhhhhh my god Gio don’t stop.”
Giorno rewards him with two quick hard thrusts, causing Fugo to scratch at the desk, before going back to their previous pace.
“Good boy, Panna. You’re taking it so well, you always take what I give you so well.”
Giorno gives Fugo another two quick hard thrusts. Fugo feels tears return to his eyes and his cock start to leak. It’s good, so good, Fugo already feels himself craving his release again.
“GioGio! Please can I–hmnnn ahhh–please can I come?”
“Not yet. Be good for me a bit longer, baby.”
Fugo closes his eyes with a whine but nods. He feels the grip on his thigh tighten as he tries to take a deep breath to help calm himself. That breath as cut off as a choke, eyes flashing back open as Giorno starts speeding up, the thrusts harder than before and coming much faster. It’s so intense, Fugo’s not sure if he wants to try to push into the thrusts or pull away. Not that he can do either with the way Giorno has him, the most he can do is some small squirms. Fugo feels owned in the best possible way. He reaches up and grabs Giorno’s back and holds on, fingers occasionally slipping and leaving scratches as the pace continually increases. And Giorno is still hitting his prostate with every thrust. His voice is now an almost constant keen.
“Gio please! Please please please can I cum?!”
He knows he sounds pathetic right now, probably looks wrecked, too. But apparently it’s enough to convince Giorno.
“Yes, you can come.”
Fugo gives a cry of relief, a jumble of ‘thank you’ falling from his lips as he reaches down to jack himself off. His hand is intercepted, however, and pushed down onto the desk by Giorno. Fugo looks up at Giorno, eyes wild with confusion. Giorno’s face is flushed but still carrying an aura of control. Before Fugo can gather himself enough to voice his confusion Giorno speaks.
“Just from this…Just like this.”
Fugo feels his legs shaking. He feels so desperate right now but if that’s what Giorno wants that’s how it shall be. Fugo feels the tears that were building spill over as he nods and lets himself completely relax into it, focusing on the feelings Giorno was giving him. He gazes up at Giorno half delirious as he completely submits himself to the relentless pleasure. The lights in the room appeared to give Giorno a glow from where he leaned above Fugo, God he was beautiful.
Oh, he might have said that out loud. Giorno’s eyes widen in surprise before going soft. He releases his grip on Fugo’s wrist and reaches up and gently wipes away some of the tears from his face. He slows his thrusts for a moment as he leans down and gives Fugo a deep kiss. He pulls back leaving Fugo breathless. He then reaches his hand down to where Fugo’s hand sits on the desk and laces their fingers together before resuming their brutal pace.
Fugo slams his head back and shouts. Fugo is full on crying now, tears falling down his face as Giorno absolutely destroys him. He holds on tight to Giorno’s back and the hand Giorno intertwined with his, feeling periodic squeezes back. It’s so good, each thrust hitting him directly on his prostate and with no time to recover for the next one. Fugo distantly hears himself wailing. All his words are gone except for ‘please’ and ‘yes’ and—
“Gio! GioGio! I’m–ha! ahhhh–I’m going to come!”
Fugo opens his eyes. He sees Giorno intensely focused on his face, eyes wild and pupils completely blown. When he speaks his voice is slightly breathless.
“That’s it, Panna. You took it so well. I’ve got you, just let go.”
As soon as he says this Giorno somehow starts fucking him harder. The combination of the words and the increased intensity sends Fugo right over the edge. Fugo feels his full body spasm as he comes all over his stomach and chest. He can barely get a full breath in as Giorno moans loudly above him and doesn’t slow in the slightest. Fugo feels himself approaching oversensitivity as he clenches down on Giorno. He gets three more hard thrusts in return before Giorno is leaning down and biting his shoulder as he marks Fugo on the inside.
Giorno shifts from biting him to gentle sucking, to just nuzzling into Fugo’s shoulder. They sit like that for a while, catching their breath. Fugo feels absolutely wiped out. He can feel his thighs shaking and his arm is barely hanging onto Giorno’s back, but when Giorno moves to pull out he suddenly feels a spike of panicked energy and his grip on Giorno tightens just enough to be noticeable. He doesn’t want it to be over yet, this moment where Giorno only belongs to him.
“Not yet, can we… can we stay here a bit longer? Just like this.”
Fugo can feel Giorno’s eyes on him even though he has closed his own eyes. Giorno gives his hand a squeeze before speaking.
“I’m not going anywhere, and we don’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow, but this position has to be killing your hips. Let me just move us to the couch, okay?”
Fugo’s hips are definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but it was more than worth it. The couch did seem like a nice idea though. Fugo gives a nod and feels himself being completely lifted and carried over to the couch. He wraps both arms around Giorno’s neck and buries his face in his shoulder. Giorno apparently read his mood well enough to not even pull out, which Fugo appreciates. He wants to feel Giorno’s presence in every possible way.
When Giorno sits on the couch, Fugo lets himself sag into Giorno’s hold, releasing all the excess tension as Giorno strokes his hair and rubs his back. After a few minutes Fugo has calmed down enough to speak.
“I don’t think my legs are going to work anymore.”
He pulls back to look at Giorno’s face and is met with a very self-satisfied smirk. Fugo feels himself blush a bit and if he wasn’t absolutely done for the day that look might have got him going again.
“That’s fine, I’ll just carry you around everywhere like this. And I could push you up against a wall whenever you needed it. It’s honestly efficient.”
Fugo covers his face with both hands as he goes from a light pink to a deep red and lets out an embarrassed whine. The worst part is that he doesn’t completely hate the idea.
“Oh my god Giorno shut up! I hate you.”
He feels Giorno chuckle and gently pull his hands away from his face before peppering it all over with kisses, which do nothing for Fugo’s blush.
“I love you, too Pannacotta.”