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The joy of his lovers is that they’re always eager to surprise him, to gift him with a new treat, a toy, surprise sex, simple tender embraces, as if they think that after all this time, they still need to earn his faith or prove their worth. They haven’t, and they never have, but Doppio’s hardly going to remind them. He does love their surprises.
It starts with a present from Tiziano, which is how most good things in his life start, being entirely honest. Tiziano has an auntie’s sensibilities when it comes to curio shopping, always sifting through the trash of thrift stores and marketplaces and coming up with treasure. He’s always coming home with one oddity or another, presenting them to his partners like a magpie showing off their shiny trinkets. This one, however, requires a more direct approach.
“Come here, mi amore cadenza,” Tiziano insists, lifting Doppio up into his arms and carrying him off like a warrior returning home, triumphantly sailing through their villa full of pride and love. Doppio has a moment to reflect, tenderly, on how incredible it is that these two men—his partners, his lovers—are the only men he trusts to touch him with such immediacy, with so little warning, and how they make use of that gift without having to be told. They know they are trusted, and take such a burning joy in it that Doppio can practically feel the way Tiziano’s heart skips a beat every step or two, before hip-checking their bedroom door open and dropping him on their bed, Squalo ready and waiting to grab hold of him.
“Keep his mouth busy, my moon and stars,” Tiziano instructs Squalo, whose lap is already within kissing distance of Doppio’s mouth. “Mi amore cadenza, if you would be so kind as to keep your eyes closed, for just a moment or two?”
No one else could ask these things of him. He relishes it, revels in how he does these things for their benefit and theirs alone, how he concedes and commits to this give-and-take. The proof is the way he drops his jaw, slack and soft, and lets Tiziano unzip Squalo’s pants, guiding his cock out of his briefs, Squalo’s hips bucking eagerly towards Doppio’s mouth before Tiziano tsks, ruffling his hair.
“Ah-ah-ah, is that any way to treat il capo del capi, my love? He’s a prince among men. Be gentle,” Tiziano scolds him, and Doppio’s heart flutters. Squalo’s lip quivers, and he blinks harshly, rubbing his thumb along Doppio’s lower lip before slipping his fingers through the other man’s hair, undoing his braid.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, his expression appropriately contrite. “Sorry, Doppi. I just saw your pretty little mouth and got so excited…”
Doppio hums, nuzzling against Squalo’s thigh. His paler partner gives praise in such a direct, apparent way—the rocks breaking up the smooth, flowing river of Tiziano’s effusive praise. He loves how they complement each other, how he is embraced on all sides by a love that drags him under, leaves him needy and craving more. “It’s all right. I wanted it as much as you did. Still do.”
He lets his mouth fall open, the tip of his tongue sticking out sweetly, hoping his lover gets the message—the last thing he sees before doing as Tiziano asks and closing his eyes is Squalo’s smile, brief and sharp, before he puts the head of his cock on Doppio’s tongue, letting Doppio swallow him down at his own pace.
Tiziano was right to ask him to keep his eyes closed—he loves to watch his partners when they’re together, drinking in the beauty of their bodies. If he hadn’t been asked to behave, he would’ve taken the time to relish how delicately Squalo’s porcelain skin filled with heated red, like milk swirling in coffee, settling a flushed, needy glow across his cheeks, throat, and chest; he would’ve watched how he tried so desperately to maintain eye contact with his boss, his beloved, before breaking down and screwing his eyes shut, panting and moaning and biting his lips swollen and bruised trying to keep his moans down. Watching Squalo fall apart while he sucked on his cock sounds like a perfect plan to Doppio, but if Tiziano makes requests of him, he always has his reasons, and Doppio does love to indulge his darling boys, so he goes along with it and surrenders his vision to darkness, letting Tiziano gently undress him, unzipping his pants and sliding his socks and shoes off. There’s a pause, where Doppio knows without looking that they’re exchanging one of their lover’s telepathy gazes, the kind that says everything without needing a single word, and Squalo lifts him up off his cock, making Doppio whine in protest as Tiziano carefully strips him of his sweater, stroking his hair in silent apology before settling him back down between Squalo’s legs. He works quickly after that, sliding on things that Doppio can only guess at based on the garment’s texture, the straps of silk and lace and leather and where they go. His toes curl when Tiziano slides stockings on over his feet, and his thighs quiver in pleasure when his partner gently adjusts the clasps of his garters to the press of the stockings against his innermost thighs. He tries so hard not to moan or plead for more, but a little whimper leaves him when Tiziano toys with the rim of lace around his waistband. Tiziano chuckles, tender and loving. “Oh, beloved. You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”
He wants to see, and he knows Tiziano can tell, because he’s teasingly tracing his fingers over the edges of Doppio’s thighs and shoulders, down the curve of his spine. “Yes, my love. I’ll let you look, I promise.”
Doppio lets Squalo’s cock fall from his mouth with a tender little kiss, licking the tip and opening his eyes to see his lover flushed red and panting, as predicted. He licks his flushed, swollen cockhead playfully, drinking down the eager spurts of precum that bead up in response. Squalo exhales shakily and swallows hard, scooting back on the bed so that Tiziano can pull Doppio to his feet, leading him across the bedroom and towards the full-length mirror they installed for just this purpose. Tiziano strokes his hand up Doppio’s stomach, then traces the swooping curves of the bralette hugging his pecs. Squalo takes a second to gather himself, then stands up on unsteady legs to lope after Doppio and Tiziano, his cock bobbing as he stops just behind Doppio, rubbing his hard length against his lace-sheathed hip. Tiziano sighs and smiles. “Squalo, my moon and stars, if you would be so kind as to get my oils?”
Squalo whines, still chasing the friction of Doppio’s lingerie against his shaft. Doppio tsks playfully, rubbing the head of his cock. “You heard Tiz. Do as you’re told, precious.”
“You look so good giving commands,” Tiziano sighs blissfully, lightheaded with delight and grinning ear to ear. “I can’t wait to touch you. Look at how beautiful you are, my dearest Doppio. Your body is perfectly poised, awaiting my caress…”
He has to admit, Tiziano knows his undertones. The lingerie suits him perfectly—the satin is a blush pink, the lace a vivid, glaring white, and the leather straps that harness his bralette into place and keep his pale rosy stockings up over his freckled thighs are a rich, cherry red. He looks like candy for his lovers to take their sweet time unwrapping and devouring whole. Doppio swallows, his cock twitching at the thought, his mouth watering with anticipation. Tiziano coos, kissing his shoulder and nuzzling against his neck, reaching out his hand so Squalo can press the bottle into his palm. He unscrews the top and pours out a small golden stream of massage oil into his palm. It glistens and burns with cinnamon and clove, and when Tiziano gently applies it to Doppio’s thighs, it tingles against his skin.
“Lube him for me, beloved, I’ll burn him with this if I try it,” Tiziano says, and Squalo scrambles to obey. Doppio is caught between their tender touches and left trembling as Squalo works him open, leaves him a dripping, slick wreck as Tiziano rubs massage oils into his thighs until he gleams, Tiziano’s deft fingers mindful of the straps of his garters and the flutter and ruffle of his lace. He kisses Doppio’s cheek and hums. “Distracting you well enough, my darling?”
“Oh,” Doppio murmurs, his voice quivering. “Tiz, please, I—“
“Ssh. No talking, my little one,” Tiziano soothes him. “It’s our turn to praise you and caress you, and your only job right now is to stand here and take it. You think you can do that for us, boss?”
Doppio nods, mute with pleasure. Tiziano hums, kissing his throat. “Good. Of course you can, you’re such a good boy, that’s it…”
Squalo’s hand wraps around his cock as Tiziano’s own length presses against his entrance; before Doppio has a second to process or prepare, Tiziano’s pushing into him, almost to the hilt. His lover is graceful and restrained, waiting for Doppio to finish moaning and gasping before sliding in that last inch. His free hand is wrapped around Squalo’s cock, and his other hand holds Doppio by the hip.
“Brace yourself on the mirror, my love,” he murmurs to Doppio. “Look at how beautiful you are when I breed you full.”
“Oh,” Doppio whimpers, practically drooling in anticipation as Tiziano’s thrusts start to push him up, his feet lifting off the floor from the force of Tiziano’s thrusting hips, his hands braced against the ornate mirror frame. He moans and whimpers as Squalo’s hand slides over his shaft, his rhythm stuttering every so often when Tiziano does something clever with his own hand that makes Squalo gasp. Soon, both men’s cries melt into a unified howl of pleasure, and Tiziano surveys both his lovers with a look of fierce, burning pride as he pounds into Doppio and strokes eager, glistening ropes of cum from Squalo’s cock. Even after his partner’s orgasm, Tiziano keeps rubbing his hand along the surface of his cock, drinking in his whimpers and wailing. Doppio adores the sight of Squalo’s flushed, burning body being stroked past its limit, his cock aching and red, still trying to twitch and throb under Tiziano’s touch, and drinks his fill of the sights and sounds of Squalo crying out, the heady scent of his cum leaking down Doppio’s thigh and surrounding his senses.
He gets almost immediate retribution after delighting in the way Squalo breaks down beneath Tiziano’s touch, as another thrust from Tiziano’s cock that bruises against the softest, most secret part of himself breaks him in two and leaves him gasping, painting the mirror with his cum. He doesn’t even have a minute to catch his breath—Tiziano’s grabbing the tender, sore shaft of his cock where Squalo’s hand has fallen away, and picks up where his other partner left off, Squalo still panting and crying and trying to squirm away from Tiziano’s touch, to no avail. Doppio tries not to break beneath the grasping hand that makes his entire lower half burn and weaken, his senses swarming, overwhelmed and profoundly, deeply weak, but it’s an inevitability, and they all know it. The proud boss of Passione pleads and cries for relief, and Tiziano denies him with a predator’s smile, kissing Doppio’s forehead with a pillow talk tenderness entirely at odds with his relentless stroking and touching. Doppio’s vision of himself in the mirror is fogged up by his own cum, but he can see enough of himself—the red, teary eyes, the swollen part of his lips, and the head of his aching cock in Tiziano’s grasp. Behind him, Squalo weeps for more, gripping Doppio’s hips to steady himself and overstimulating Doppio further, an acute mix of pain and pleasure.
“You know how to finish this,” Tiziano reminds him, toying with him and grinning, teasing and gentle. Doppio swallows hard, his breath heaving.
“Good job,” he whimpers, more a breath than a word, “you did—you did so well for me, Tizi, you’re the only one who makes me—make me, you’re going to make me cum—“
He does, again, despite his body’s dearest wishes, cum bubbling up over his swollen cockhead, dripping down his shaft, a perfect match to the tears in his eyes. Tiziano coos in pleasure, finally releasing his grip on both of his partners and taking a step back, luring them towards the bed once more with his cock still flushed and hard between his legs. It’s a question of who reaches him first to ride him, but Doppio deliberately hangs back—for Squalo’s sake, of course, but for his own as well, watching his lovers rutting together on the bed with his solitary burning pleasure boiling over in his stomach. He approaches the head of their bed and climbs onto it, rising to his knees beside Tiziano’s head and letting his lover take his soft cock into his mouth to keep it warm.
“You know I live to serve,” Tiziano sighs as he slips it in, his lips quivering with pleasure as Squalo bucks against him and Doppio’s soft cock rubs against his tongue and cheek. Doppio pats his hair reassuringly, allowing Tiziano to play with the straps of his lingerie, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure.
“Yes,” Doppio reassures him, quiet over the sounds of Tiziano’s own trembling, heady orgasm, and Squalo’s cries of delight as he’s filled with it in endless, aching ropes, “you do.”