Work Text:
Doppio's thighs straddle his hips, the muscles of his thighs tensing and releasing as he bounces himself on Diavolo's cock. Diavolo's grip, loosely wrapping around some of Doppio's waist, turns harsh just as Doppio finds a rhythm, disrupting his motion and denying Doppio any meaningful pleasure. "Boss," he pants, halfway between pleading and ominous. His head drops towards his chest in momentary defeat as he catches his breath. "Why won't you let me cum?" he pants.
Diavolo hums, petting at Doppio's waist and the curve of his hip bones. "You'll cum when I want you to," he answers patiently, even though he's already reminded his Doppio of this many times.
"You won't even let me ride you," he complains, looking up now, leaning forward to plant his hands on either side of Diavolo's head.
Diavolo takes one of Doppio's hands, turns it to kiss his palm, and then places it back down. "And why should I?" He asks, bucking up without warning and nearly sending Doppio sprawling over his chest with a low groan of pleasure.
"I've been good, Diavolo, I've been good," he nearly cries, face scrunching. "Just fuck me already!"
"Is that an order?" Diavolo asks, voice low – not dangerous, but reminding Doppio of just who he's trying to command.
"I wanna get off, Boss. I wanna get you off," Doppio says, losing himself in his frustration again. "Why won't you fuck me properly? Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavolo –" he continues, rolling his hips down minutely each time he calls Diavolo's name.
"Doppio –" Diavolo starts, but freezes in place as Doppio's hand moves somewhere out of his peripheral vision, and his newly acquired stand takes effect. Doppio smiles cheekily down at him, and reaches over Diavolo's head before moving his stand – currently a rotary phone – from where he must've summoned it above out of Diavolo's view. He's activated the ability Hold; put all of Diavolo's voluntary actions to a halt. He moves his stand off to the side of where they're lying, making sure everything is in order before turning back to Diavolo.
"Boss," he starts, like he can already taste how much trouble he's going to be in after this. He runs a finger down the line of Diavolo's jaw, between the notches of his collarbones and pecs, before he presses his palm against his abdomen for leverage, lifting off Diavolo's dick before he slides back down slowly. He basks in the feeling of it, knowing that this time he'll finally be able to enjoy the sensation. "I really am sorry, Diavolo," he says, looking down to see Diavolo's face, still frozen as he was when he called Doppio's name. "I didn't want to do this," he nearly moans, as he drops particularly hard onto Diavolo's cock and it presses right against where he needs it most. "I just – I couldn't help it."
He gets distracted at the long-awaited promise of release – can't help the wordless noise of pleasure that rises in his throat as he rocks himself back on Diavolo's dick, finally at a satisfying pace. He almost brings a hand up to muffle his moans, then thinks twice of it, pressing his knuckles into his cheek.
"I should probably let you hear me moan, right Boss?" He asks, panting again, this time from exertion. "You've been so mean to me but," he falls off into a hitching inhale, then catches his breath, "I'm not cruel enough that I won't let you hear how you're making me feel," he says, finishing with an indulgent moan as he feels where the skin of his abdomen moves ever so slightly each time he forces himself down to where Diavolo bottoms out. He breathes out an elated laugh between noises of pleasure, moving in quick bursts up and down off Diavolo's cock. "Fuck, you feel so good," he adds, and his hand slides until he's biting into the meat of it, another groan spilling out from around his hand.
Diavolo doesn't move – can't do anything but breathe, blink, and have his body continue its usual automatic functions to keep him alive. His cock, aching and hot, gets only harder inside Doppio.
Doppio chases his orgasm with that ferocity for only a little longer before he's completely out of breath, unable to do anything but grind down in minute motions on Diavolo's cock as he tries to get his heart to cease jackhammering in his chest. He doesn't quite take his own dick into his hand, but cups himself just gently enough to take the under-stimulated shakes out of his muscles.
He ducks his face into his shoulder, again trying to battle his own habits with how he wants to tease Diavolo. He settles on lowing his head, hair hanging down around his face and hiding his expression as he starts moving on Diavolo's cock again. Slower, edging himself forward in infinitesimal distances until he's ready to drop himself back on Diavolo, varying it with an equally lengthy slide back down or a harsh and fast jolt back onto his ankles.
If it weren't for each roll bringing another slick pulse of precum from Diavolo's cock, the way he's using Diavolo might be reminiscent of all the times he'd fucked himself to the thought of his Boss. His Boss, who he's holding captive and totally under his control. The thought brings a throb of gratification.
He finally finds a middle ground between fervently chasing his orgasm and a slow tumble into it; rocking in short and fast motions to hammer Diavolo's dick into his prostate as he grips his own cock with a loose fist, fucking into his own palm with every movement back and forth. It's just enough stimulation to edge him closer with each roll of his hips without too much exertion.
It's so easy for the pleasure to build, finally, into an orgasm, when he's taking such full control of Diavolo like this. The look on Diavolo's face – frozen into a mask of pleasure in the instant he thought he was Doppio's sole authority – pulls him inexplicably closer to cumming with each passing second. He loves his Boss, he really does, but would it be so bad if he made sure that Diavolo knows that he's Doppio's, as much as Doppio is his?
He cums all over Diavolo's chest, a few drops hitting the underside of Diavolo's jaw in an arc. He shakes as his orgasm finally rocks through him, barely able to hold himself up after so many denials at Diavolo's hand.
He's woozy and lightheaded with it all; doesn't even realise that Diavolo's gained control over his body again and flipped him onto his back, until he's looming over Doppio with a dark expression. "Hiiii Boss," Doppio wheezes – can't get any more out before Diavolo's bending him nearly in half and pushing his dick back into him.
He can't do much more than wail from the overstimulation of it – can't even think to move or speak bar the whine that leaves him with the gentle pull on his thigh muscles at the stretch. It's too much to have Diavolo inside him – too much sensation and too much feeling when all he wants is to ride out the end of his orgasm.
Diavolo has no such consideration; thrusting into Doppio like he's not trying to do anything other than punish him with too much pleasure after his insubordination; trying more to push into that sweet spot of Doppio's with each thrust rather than focusing on his own orgasm. "Boss –" Doppio gasps.
He wraps his hand around Doppio's dick, softening and already covered in cum, and starts to stroke.
Doppio jerks violently against the sheets, trying to escape from Diavolo's grip. He starts thrashing properly nearly immediately after; not kicking nor throwing punches, but rather an ineffectual attempt at escape that does little more than let Diavolo know he should pin Doppio to the mattress. He heaves in a desperate breath.
"Boss!" He sobs and moans and whines with each of Diavolo's movements, trying to escape his hold and press into it in equal measure.
"Did you enjoy that?" Diavolo says at last, panting with the force he presses into Doppio with. "Did you have your fun? Did you enjoy having me under your thumb like that? Did you like using me like I was nothing more than a fucktoy, you insatiable cumslut?" He growls, not letting up on any fronts as Doppio squirms beneath him.
"No!" Doppio gasps, clawing at Diavolo's arm. "I – I just – I wanted –" he starts, each thrust from Diavolo bringing him to a pained moan before he can finish.
"You just wanted what? Wanted to undermine me because you couldn't help yourself? Because I was doing such a bad job of pleasing you?" He asks, voice low and accusatory. Long strands of his hair stick momentarily to his lipstick before falling back down around them, forming a dark curtain around where he leans over Doppio. He's the only thing Doppio can see – the only other thing in his world.
"You were being so mean!" Doppio says at last, shaking with the tremors of an oncoming orgasm he's not ready to have so soon. "I didn't think you were ever gonna let me cum, Boss," he says, tears pooling in his eyes at the overstimulation and frustration, somehow again at full hardness.
Diavolo slows his pace, and brings his spare hand down to push Doppio's hair off his face, stroking the skin there tenderly. "Doppio, sweet thing, you don't make the decisions here," he says, again with that put-upon air of patience as if he should be rewarded for his kindness for explaining these obvious truths to Doppio. "You ask, and I decide what I want to give you," he explains as he watches over Doppio. "You said you wanted to cum?"
Doppio nods sharply. "Yes, please!" He begs, near enough to cumming that he can bear the overstimulation knowing release is so close.
"And I would've let you," Diavolo says, "eventually."
"But I needed it," Doppio tries, now flexing his hips into each stroke from Diavolo's hand.
Diavolo laughs, leaning down to kiss a groan from Doppio's mouth, feeling Doppio squeeze around him as he draws right to the precipice of orgasm. "I'm sure it felt like you needed to," he acknowledges, "but I'm the one in charge. You don't get to cum unless I want you to," he says, and stops jerking Doppio off. Removes his hand entirely, placing it on the bed for leverage as his thrusts remain at that self-indulgent crawl.
"No," Doppio whines. "No, please Boss, c'mon please Boss," he pants, trying to twist into Diavolo's space, now. "Please," he says, sounding close to tears. "Don't do this, please, I need to cum."
Diavolo smiles placidly down at him, and does nothing at all but keep with the same glacial pace.
"I'm sorry, alright?!" He barks, suddenly, but the venom immediately dissipates from his tone after the outburst. "I'm sorry I used my stand on you, Boss," he heaves. "I shouldn't have done it – I knew I shouldn't do it, but I needed to cum so badly," he says, and the futility of his actions bring his tears rolling down his face. "You make me feel so good but don't let me cum and it's so fucking annoying," he adds, voice slipping into irritation again just for a moment before he lets it go. He wipes messily at his tears.
"And?" Diavolo prompts, laying his palm against Doppio's inner thigh – just a breath from where he wants it.
"And –" Doppio flounders. "And – and you're the one who decides when I get to cum," he repeats. "Just please, please let me cum now," he says, pulling Diavolo close enough to cup his face in his hands. "Please," he begs.
Diavolo smiles down at him, and leans into Doppio's hands until their lips meet again. While Doppio can't see, he wraps his hand around his cock again, and he knows the sound that Doppio makes into his mouth will haunt many nights to come. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asks once they've parted, lips brushing against Doppio's to leave even more of his lipstick behind.
Doppio moans something incoherent as he tries to both push up into Diavolo's fist and fuck himself back on his dick.
"You know that I love spoiling you," Diavolo says, the rolls of his hips coming faster until he's at a speed he knows Doppio likes. "You just have to let me," he adds, and Doppio opens his mouth in protest, but he interrupts him before he can get a word in. "Yes, it might take a while, and you might feel like you're going to die if you don’t cum," he says, mimicking Doppio's hyperbolic tone, "but it's worth it, and I know it's worth it, because my adorable Doppio deserves only the best."
"Boss!" Doppio wails as Diavolo leans down to kiss and nip at his neck. "I'm gonna – oh fuck, I'm gonna cum," he says.
"Good," Diavolo murmurs, right by his ear.
Doppio couldn't stop the groan that leaves him if he'd tried, legs squeezing around Diavolo as he comes over his own chest. He isn't even sure whether his eyes are open or closed – knows only that Diavolo is cumming as well with the low moan he gives as his thrusts falter.
After a few seconds of shaky breaths, Diavolo pulls out and collapses beside Doppio on the mattress. It's too hot to cuddle fully, but Doppio's close enough to feel the heat radiating off him anyway. The sounds of the outside world begin filtering in – the distant bustle of a seaside town.
He feels Doppio adjust against the mattress, and cracks an eye open to see Doppio smiling cheekily at him. "Hey Boss?" He asks, voice almost a conspiratorial whisper.
"Yes?"
"You actually enjoyed me using you like that, didn't you?" Doppio asks, face alight with playfulness. At Diavolo's lengthy silence, he keeps prodding. "Didn't you? I can tell, you know," he adds, smug. "I know you pretended like you didn't, but it's okay to let other people be in control sometimes," he says, still in that infernal stage-whisper.
"And I suppose you believe yourself to be a perfect candidate to hold that control?" Diavolo asks, tone dry and unimpressed, still with only one eye open to look at Doppio.
"I know you're avoiding the question," Doppio's smile shifts to lift just one corner of his mouth up. "But yes! Who else could it be? I'm your underboss, Boss!"
"That's quite the qualification," Diavolo muses.
"Just think about it, alright?" Doppio asks, and closes his eyes. Diavolo gives a hum.