Chapter 1: Gelato
There was not a single force in the universe that could combat the electricity that thrives between you and your Guido Mista. In and out of combat, you both had each others’ backs. On your days off, you made the most of your time together going out, eating out at restaurants, and Mista’s personal favorite activity: clothes shopping. Not only did he get to buy himself new designer threads, he also got to see you try on all sorts of clothing, including lingerie. You were never really bothered by the way he looked at you undress in the fitting rooms since you knew that this would lead to a series of events that would end in you both nude and sweaty under the covers. (That didn't mean you couldn't still tease him though.) The way he embraced you made your insides flutter while the way he kissed you made you liquefy. You loved to creep your fingers underneath your lover's cap and gently massage his scalp, dismissing the cheers and remarks from his Sex Pistols. He adored dragging his fingers along the curves of your figure as he whispered sugar and spice into your ear. You absolutely cherished each other; every millimeter of each other.
And then there was his smell.
My god, did he reek. Just a quick whiff of his musty scent was enough to slap someone in the face. It was even worse when he left a battle; his tight clothing would be drenched in sweat. It was surprising to see that mushrooms weren’t growing from under his armpits. It became so bothersome that you had to take up the responsibility of forcing him into the shower. The other members of Passione noticed that Mista's hygiene had improved since the start of your relationship with him and mentally thanked you for your hard work and determination.
Tonight was date night for you and your beloved Mista. You both had originally planned to go out for gelato and stroll under the moonlight before you were critically injured during the last mission. Today was your last day on recovery and Mista dismissed the idea of going out for the sake of your health, although you were in almost perfect condition. Instead, you both agreed to watch a movie with each other and let things progress from there. You ordered a pizza with trippa and peppers-Mista’s favorite toppings and began your wait.
You laid in bed, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. This was an at home date, so you thought you didn't need to dress as if you're going to the ball. Hell, you knew the night would end with you both fucking so it didn't matter what the hell you were wearing. You glanced at the clock.
You knew Mista was going to be late.
The medicine you took was making you drowsy, which didn't help either. All things aside, you sat back and continued playing the waiting game. Soon enough, gravity somehow tugged on your eyes a little harder than usual but before you lost all consciousness, you could hear the door to your room unlock and a certain Italian curse a little too loudly.
Mista was home.
“(y/n)!” Mista bellowed, gleaming as he met eyes with you.
“Hey, Guido!” As you rose from your position, something sprung from your hip and made you hiss, rubbing the pain’s center. Mista’s facial expression made a 180; the last thing he wanted to see today was you being in discomfort.
“Amore…” He closed the door behind him and tossed the frozen treat onto the table before running over and diving to your aid.
“Amore, you shouldn’t move so fast! Are you okay?” Mista held your hips gently as he scanned your body, making sure you were not injured anywhere else.
“I’m fine, I’m fine! It was just a cramp.” You smiled, reassuring your statement. He smiled back and toppled over you, forcing you to lay back on your back once again. He trailed sweet kisses down your neck as his hands roamed your torso, loving every inch of your body. A wave of shivers was triggered as a result, increasing the temperature of your body whilst making you aroused. Your fingers slipped under his hat, releasing the compression around Mista’s head. His damp, messy dark chocolate hair curled around your fingers as you brought his head back to kiss his forehead. He took this opportunity to plant his lips onto yours and have his tongue spelunk into your mouth. Your legs were spread by Mista’s thighs and your crotch met with his. His hard cock grinded against your wettening flower, pants filling the atmosphere. He released himself from your grasp and rose up, fumbling with his belt buckle. You inhaled the hot air and oxygen wasn’t the only thing that entered your nostrils.
Mista smelt even worse than usual!! How the fuck did you not notice this earlier?! It smelt as if a skunk shat a rotten egg and later died in his shirt. Were the tears in your eyes from the snogging or his wretched scent? Mista caught onto your displeased look after he unzipped his pants.
“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” He was worried that he may have approached you too quickly.
“You need to take a fucking shower.” Sugarcoating it was no longer an option. Your mind and body literally could not tolerate this level of raunchiness. Mista looked at you with a confused expression.
“Go take a fucking shower. You literally smell like a carcass that’s been rotting for the past 50 years.”
Mista just stared at you briefly before taking a whiff of both his armpits, his shirt, and his hat. He looked even more baffled than he was before.
“I literally smell nothing, are you sure you’re okay?” He gave you a look of concern.
You mentally rolled over in disbelief. “You’re kidding right? You REALLY don’t smell that? ”The gunslinger shook his head, causing you to groan.
“I physically cannot have sex with you if you’re going to smell like that.” Mista’s mouth gaped at your statement.
“Is it REALLY that bad, (y/n)?!”
“YES!” You gently pushed him so that you could roll out of his grasp and onto the floor. “Get your ass in the shower or else you'll never see this pussy again, boy!”
“Dio mio!” he groaned, planting his face into the cushions. “I don't want to shower, principessa…”
“There's no sweet talking me out of this, Mista. We can't start our date until you stop smelling like a carcass.” You said as you stood up, turning your back to him to further insure that you weren't kidding around. Your attention was brought to the frozen treat that was now in a growing puddle. Great.
The gelato is melting.
Your shirt collected drips of melted ice as you put the gelato in the freezer. While wiping away the cold water with a dish rag, you felt eyes on you; a pair of certain eyes undressing you.
Mista was going fucking crazy. It's been at least a week since you both last had sex. Masturbation only did so much and he was desperately missing licking, sucking, and biting on your most sensitive parts. Even when you teased him, listening to your voice alone drove him through the roof. Just the thought of brushing your wet pussycat with his hungry tongue made his adrenaline rush. Sucking on your throbbing clit as you purred his name...Mista… Mista…
“Huh?!” snapped out of his trance, he jumped at the sight of you.
“I told you to go shower.”
He whined, resting his head back onto the couch cushion. “Amoré, you don't understand how damn horny I am! Can we just get to the fun part first and then maybe I'll shower-”
“Ahh, you're so stubborn! Listen, will it make you feel better if I showered with you? I haven’t showered today yet.” You couldn't believe you had to compromise your partner just to take a damn shower. It looked as if it had worked though because he was gleaming now.
“Deal!” Mista practically jumped back on his feet and ran to the upstairs shower. Boy, was he a handful sometimes.
Walking up the stairs, you could hear the impact of a belt buckle hitting the glossy floor. Guido must be really eager to see you naked! You didn't blame him though, you missed getting sexually active yourself. It wasn't a lie that you were horny too, just not as much as Guido was. During recovery, you both vowed not to have sex until you were fully healed. This didn't stop your relationship of course since you could take care of your sexual difficulties on your own. Alas, being felt up by Mista awoke dormitory sensations that you haven't felt since the first few times you engaged in sexual experimentation with him. Did sexual frustration really do this to people?
Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, you watched as Mista removed his sweaty cap and let it fall to the floor, a wet slap erupting from the impact. You didn't like it when he left dirty clothes on the floor, but you let it slide for now. He turned to you and smiled nervously.
“I'll pick it up, my bad (y/n).” You smiled and nodded, forgiving him. Mista bent down and picked up his clothes while covering his crotch with his free hand. It was unmistakably noticeable that he had a raging hard on, but looking at it for a long period of time would make you drool right then and there so you averted your eyes.
“Amoré, aren't you going to undress?” Mista asked, placing his filthy clothes on the toilet. “Or do you need help~?”
Chapter 2: Melt
The shower heat is so much, it'll make you want to melt.
//rises from grave// What the fuck-
(Sorry for taking 20 years to make finish this. I made a new tumblr called @estekke-arts where I basically post art and talk about jojo and other things. I'll be WAAAAY more active, I promise. I'm taking prompts right now so stop by and see what the rock is cooking, I would really appreciate it. ;w;)
“Yes, I do need help.” (...) placed a hand on their partner’s shoulder. “I need the lord’s guidance so I can get you in that god forsaken shower.”
He smirked at the quick response. “Smart.” The single word escaped his lips, accepting his defeat. “But I still hope you’ll enjoy the shower with me-”
“I never said no.” (...) spat. Secretly, they took pride into teasing Mista but this time around, they gave in. What they wouldn’t expect was the sharp consequence.
Mista licked his lips at the intensity hidden in the words he had just heard. As they rung through his head, he analyzed the passion and volume of each syllable. (...) couldn’t deny how damp their panties were and Mista could not protest how much harder his “sex pistol” had gotten in the past few minutes. Both partners knew that they were yearning for the same thing: hot, sensual sex.
Mista slithered his fingers into his amore’s pants, pulling their pants and underwear down while feeling the warmth of their thighs. As their legs were being exposed, (...) shivered from the cool air crashing with their bare skin and the arousal in their blossom. Closing their legs together only made their pussy pulse, creating another stream of fresh cum to travel down their leg. This did not go unnoticed.
A warm tongue was met their burning inner thigh and began to consume the trail of cum, getting closer and closer to its source. (...)’s leg muscles twitched at the tongue to leg contact, welcoming their visiter to their flower as they grew near. Right before Mista’s muscle could embrace the glow of its destination, he stopped himself from going any further. He had an amazing opportunity to admire such a view and he wasn’t about to let it go.
“Damn, you’re so wet…” Mista let out. He gazed at the glistening pink rose in front of him, comparing it to wildflowers with fresh dew drops as the dawn’s rays hit their petals. Mista needed that dew to quench his thirst. He closed his eyes and let his tongue be his guide. Little did he know that he would be guided to peril.
Mista’s tongue was brutally captured by his tongue as his cheeks felt the forces of the thighs he was drooling over.
“Ha! You really think I’m going let your raunchy ass eat me before even getting into the shower? I don’t need my pussy to smell like a dumpster.”
The Italian didn’t know how to feel. Betrayed? Insulted? Horny? ...Yeah, still horny.
“I...I can’t breath...”
“Oh, my bad.”
Mista couldn’t help but inhale sharply after being granted fresh air. After filling his lungs, he rose from his squatting position and leaned against the sink to support his weight.
“You’re such a tease, (...)!” he exhaled, slurping up the dew on the side of his mouth.
“You’re not wrong.” (...) replied. “But now you have enough motivation to get in the shower because I gave you a little… “sneak peak”, for lack of a better word.”
Mista was still hungry. “Okay, but can we just-”
“If you don’t get into that shower right now I’ll get Trish to use Spice Girls on your dick to soften it up.”
“How do you like your water? Hot? Cold? Luke warm?”
(...) beamed at her victory.
Almost artic cold water hit the shower floor after Mista turned the hot water handle to its highest power. As the temperature of the water rose, steam slithered across the bathroom floor. Mista’s eyes followed the path and crept up (...)’s form, giving off looks of hunger as he bit his bottom lip. He knew he couldn’t have a piece of that ass just yet.
“Don’t let the water run without you under it.”
A grin formed across Mista’s face. He knew he wasn’t far from victory. The second his back was turned, (...) darted their eyes right towards that posterior-god damn that’s a FIIIIINE ass!
His defined muscles were something to hunger over, but his ass? His curvy, solid ass cheeks were right there, so grabbable, so tempting. But (...) resisted and only watched.
Mista wasn’t really the type to put on shows for his amoré, but he didn’t know that once the clear shower curtain was closed he would be starting a show for (...), who had the best seat in the house. Rivers of blazing water coursed down from his toned jawline all the way down his vigorous chest and abs. All that water finally parting with his body, down his luscious thighs, made your hormones rush. (...) needed all those parts and more in their hands.
But first, they needed a closer look.
The noise generated from the sudden slide of the shower curtain scared Mista. Mista, in turn, shat 7 bricks.
“Move over, I’m joining the party.”
“Look who finally decided to shower up.” Mista replied cattily, shifting enough to give his amore enough room for themselves. He watched them enter the shower, smirking as he knew that he was getting closer and closer to the bonezone.
“I’m here to supervise,” (...) announced. “So get to soapin’!”
Mista playfully hissed, turning to the collection of body wash bottles. After he made his selection, he jokingly asked “Are you sure you didn’t come here just to look at my ass?”
“Actually, I came for both.” (...) answered, gifting him with a smack on the ass.
“Dio mio! Chill out, damn!” Mista jumped, rubbing his buttcheek. “I’m going, I’m going!”
Mista applied a hefty amount of soap onto the shower sponge and began to lather himself, beginning at his neck. With his backside turned to you once again, (...) was once again blessed with those golden brown buns. This time, with a better view. Suds ran down Mista’s back as he scrubbed himself, slowly trudging down his spine and gliding along the crack of his buttocks. Other soap trails traveled down the back sides of his cheeks and crept down the back of his thighs. Watching this was like achieving a new high and (...) was automatically hooked.
“Hmm?! Huh? What??” (...) was snapped out of their trance by the sound of their name and the smell of...the smell of lavender?
“Amore, are you okay? Is the steam too much for you?” Mista asked with a worrying look.
“Oh no, I’m fine! Just kinda...had my head in the clouds.” (...) laughed. They couldn’t help but notice how Mista’s skin glistened under the bathroom light and shower water. Even his somewhat embarrassing tan lines gleamed! Not only that but...what happened to the dead carcass smell? Lavender circulated the air and practically consumed all the oxygen going up (...)’s nose. How many times did Mista wash himself already? Two? Five? Possibly twenty?
“Ah, gotcha! In that case, would you mind scrubbing my back? I think I may have missed a few spots.” he asked, handing the sponge to his lover. (...) swallowed whatever saliva was left in their mouth because god damn, they were getting more and more thirsty by the second.
“Si, of course!” they answered, taking the sponge from him. As Mista set up the shower chair, (...) couldn’t help but ask themselves if they would achieve another high. Would it be as dynamic as the last one? Could it possibly be even more powerful?
There was only one way to find out.
Mista positioned himself so that his chest was against the back of the seat and his back once again faced (...).
“Go ahead, babe! Don’t strain yourself, I don’t want you to slip and fall.”
“What do you think I am, some kind of pussy? I’m apart of Passione! My bones are tougher than steel!” (...) boasted.
Mista rolled his eyes. “Oh suuuuuure. Hurry up, I need to wash you!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” (...) would have already been washing him if they weren’t so hesitant. If they didn’t do it now, Mista would probably think they were being weird. Getting caught oogling over their boyfriend’s ass? They wouldn't hear the end of it. Maybe...maybe closing their eyes would work?
It was worth a shot.
With the windows of their soul closed shut, (...) began scouring their partner’s back. After a few seconds, they noticed that Mista was quiet. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything? Would it have made a difference if their eyes were wide open, scanning every inch of his toned back? Feeling a bit giddy, they creaked open one eye. Mista was more crouched than his original position. Maybe he wanted his lower back to be washed now? There wasn’t even much space to wash. Only the end of his back and…
...SOME OF THAT THICC ASS.
(...) couldn’t help but thank the good lord and their boy Jesus Christ for such a heavenly gift. Even if it wasn’t the full ass, it was still ass; a divine dish fit for a king. All there was left to do was tear that bad boy apart-
...What’s that sound?
It’s sound like that sound Narancia makes when he imitates fapping. It was subtle, but not subtle enough for (...) to let it go by. Not being able to configure the sound could be, they carefully towered their head over Mista’s shoulder...
Mista was milking the cow.
This was like a new level of voyeurism. There’s watching people masturbate from a distance, but watching over their shoulder? (...) unknowingly broke new ground. But...should he be stopped? Mista looked as if he were in the heat of the moment already. His upper thighs and pelvis were brushed with maroon and it didn’t look like he would stop until the fireworks were set off. Not only was it hot to watch, but it was intriguing to watch how stimulated Mista had become. Every stroke was a step closer to his quick, sweet release. He just wanted a quickie since he’s been so sex deprived; isn’t it fair for him to release his load?
...And (...) to release theirs?
It wouldn’t be classified as voyeurism if they didn’t please themselves. But...why not just turn this into full on shower sex?
“Cut that shit out and fuck me.” (...) hissed into Mista’s ears. Naturally, he leaped in his seat and whipped his torso around, making his face inches away from (...)’s.
“Per l'amor di Dio! Don’t do that!!! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”
“I’m sorry, but…”
Mista’s heart almost came to a stop when (...) purred into his ear…
“We have overdue business that needs our attention…”
“Say no more.”
The drip drips of the shower faucet accompanied the thump thumps the cool shower floor produced from the harsh slapping of skin against it. No time was wasted on foreplay as that would have delayed the main course even more. Fuck the movie. Fuck the pizza. Fuck the gelato.
Mista didn’t want to hear anything else but those two words as he drove himself further and further into his one and only. Every thrust was a step towards his sweet release; a reminder that he should never squander any moment to have sex with his beloved. (...) could feel their walls clasp around Mista’s pistol, never wanting to let go until they were satisfied. Every inch of him was more valuable than any painting, any sculpture, any melting gelato. It was practically a brick of solid gold that was ramming through them. The only thing left to do is to strike gold.
“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-”
Mista pulled harder on (...)’s locked, hoping to raise the intensity of their orgasm. This triggered the key to turn in the lock, freeing another soul from their caged orgasm. As their moans filled the air, (...) could faintly hear church bells ringing. Not only that, but they could feel warm streams hitting their stomach which was followed by Mista’s even warmer body fall against theirs. Pants already engulfed the air and it was only the first round. That didn’t really bother the two much, but (...) was troubled by something of odd importance.
The gelato had fully melted by now.