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It was a dull evening. The condos of downtown Empire Bay grew melancholy and somber, the sky above a greying lavender, the clouds dissolving into a fine, pink, mist--the setting sun nowhere to be seen. Pedestrians headed to nightclubs or to their homes, or perhaps, their jobs as the slight breeze of the coastal city made them shiver and shake, longing for the comfort of their homes and blankets. Vito was no different. The 'click-clack' of Vito's boot heels heel grew muffled as the people of the city scrambled to get home from a long day's work. People chattered and squealed, laughed, and joked--it all seemed fake to him. His belt chain jangled and shook about as he headed back to his apartment, the various radios he passed by blaring the latest from Little Richard and Buddy Holly. His deep brown eyes carried a lonely aura about them, his expression one of neutral mope. The handsome young man carried himself through the busy sidewalk traffic, his hands in the pockets of his heavy jacket, his gaze focused straight ahead.
As people passed by, his mind drifted away from the urban scene, landing on thoughts of his best friend--then his best friend’s number one girl. He thought of his hands between mocha thighs, watching the latest drama on television, sighing in bliss as he relaxed on the large, California King bed in his bedroom. He swore up and down he would love her better--he had no idea what that woman saw in a pig like Joseph Barbaro. Vito let out a sigh himself as he came to a stop at a traffic light, the red, LED light keeping them at bay. He watched as people walked through the crosswalks and inside tall buildings, feeling a pang of loneliness in his being.
Quickly enough, the carmine light changed to an electric-green glare in the little, black, cubicle.
He walked across the busy street, trying his best not to bump into anyone, the loose gravel crunching under his heel, not that he could hear it.
"Won't you please be my own?” sang a nearby car’s radio
Never leave me alone."
He stared straight ahead, ignoring the chatter around him, his mind latching onto the lyrics, bringing up images of a lovely young woman--one that should be his lover.
"...I thought I could live without romance..."
Reaching the other side, he stopped walking, much to the annoyance and frustrations of the metropolitan folk. He sighed and looked across the way to notice a fairly young couple, giggly and fun, approaching a flashy hotel. He squinted as they kissed each other at the door, a longing kiss--one that hinted at both parties missing each other after a long time apart--it filled him with envy, and his face refused to hide it.
"...I want you, I need you, I love you."
He turned his head away with a quick, disapproving, grunt and began to walk a little faster, his thoughts immersing him in a stew of jealousy and paranoia. He continued to look around him, noticing couples of all sorts; old, young, and in between, thick and thin, foreign and domestic. It made him sick. He needed to be in the safety of his apartment, the caress of the thick blankets he had at home served enough emotional comfort for the tall, stud. He was content with it.
Despite all of this, he felt another wave of loneliness smack him in the gut as he walked past a fancy restaurant, dates, and romantic friends having the night of their lives.
He headed north, the lights growing dimmer and dimmer as he approached a more residential area, fancy condos and apartments lining the streets. Homestretch. Smirking, he let out a sigh of relief as he came face to face with the door to the stairs of his complex.
Shaking his earlier feelings off, he pushed it open, letting the golden light from above shine on his olive skin. He stepped across the tiled floor and accompanying mailboxes with haste and pressed his heavy palm against the stair railing, walking as he attempted to empty his mind. He took step after step, excited to escape the annoyance the walk home brought. He thought about all the good things that awaited him; his best friend, his bed, the television, and leftover tiramisu being the standout thoughts.
Closed in and cramped by walls, he looked around, staring at the moths trapped in the fluorescent lamps above, some still sporadically flying, trying to escape to no avail. He turned his head, staring at a corkboard on the wall, littered with all sorts of little reminders, things like, "make sure to clean up after your dog" and "don't take the stairs after midnight.". Vito wasn't sure why that last one was there.
One last step up three flights of stairs and Vito was on his selected level. He stepped off the final stair clumsily, only snapping back from zoning out a second ago. He then hurried down the hallway, scanning the names on the doors, getting his keys ready.
"Barnes, Weiss, Andrianakis, Gervasoni...Scaletta." He muttered, unlocking the last door and walking inside, closing it behind him.
The living room was blaring with the rock radio, an excited Joe eating some carbonara left over from last night’s outing.
“Eyy, welcome back Vito!” he said with an opened armed gesture.
“Ey Joe.” Replied Vito with a small smile. He almost forgot that Joe spent the night, and apparently wasn’t keen on leaving anytime soon.
He shimmied his brown, leather jacket off and placed it on the hook behind him, kicking off his shoes and placing them near the door.
“Where were you, anyway?” Joe questioned
“Had some business to take care of at the boardwalk.” responded Vito, “I’m pretty tired, not gonna lie.”
Joe swallowed his bite before adding, “Well then, lay the fuck down! It’s your place after all.”
Vito nodded and with a step into his room and the creak of the door, he decided he’d do just that.
All was quiet, all was dark--the curtains shielding the light of the purple sky from entering his bedroom. But, when the door let out another creak, it was abruptly cut short.
"Hey, Vito!" Joe called into the man’s room from the doorway.
A sigh echoed throughout the bedroom. "What is it Joe, I'm tryin' to take a nap!" grumbled Vito
“Quit your whining, I got somethin’ to tell you." Joe groaned in rebuttal.
Vito sat up in the bed, obviously cranky.
Joe stepped forwards into the murky room, a plate of carbonara still in his hand, his mouth chewing on however much he shoved in his mouth. "Okay, I'm inviting my favorite girl over, you don't mind, do ya?" he asked.
Vito huffed. "No Joe, I don't mind you inviting people over without my say-so. That's not a problem at all!"
Joe rolled his eyes."Quit bein a wise-ass and give me a straight answer." he whined
Vito dragged his hands down his face, extremely exasperated. "Sure, whatever,” he told his friend, “just don't wake me up."
A chuckle escaped Joe's belly as he replied, "I was hoping you'd say yes! She'll be over in about ten minutes, I already called her."
Vito fell back to his pillows as his friend bitched on.
"And who the fuck takes a nap in the evening?" Joe babbled, "might as well be going to bed!"
"Shut up, Joe." Spoke Vito from his blankets. “You know damn well why I’m takin’ one!”
He lifted his head again, to ask, "Which girl is it?"
Joe was just about to close the door before he cleared his throat.
"The fuckin'--uh..the one from the south-side. You know her, deep brown skin, red hair…"
Vito went silent for a second. "Oh, poodle?"
"Yeah, her." Replied Joe, "and why do you keep calling her that, people are gonna think I'm with a fuckin' dog!"
Vito clicked his tongue. "She's like a fuckin puppy, Joe!"
Of course, Vito knew her; she was the object of Vito’s jealousy towards Joe. Despite her good-girl appearance, they both knew “Poodle” was a devil in disguise. Vito only knew because of Joe's various tales of conquest regarding her. She could've fooled Vito.
Before Joe could talk back, a knock at the door startled him, and he immediately went to get it.
Vito’s head hit the pillows again, this time out of frustration. He silently cursed Joe for not shutting the door before he darted off.
Not long after Joe answered the door, the smell of something sweet wafted through the house.
“Babydoll!!” he heard Joe yell happily, followed by that too familiar giggle that he grew to crush on.
“Hi, Joe-bear!” a woman’s voice called back. Poodle’s voice.
Vito frowned. What the fuck? “Joe-bear?” it should be “Vito-wito” or something.
He listened as Joe cooed over her, telling the woman, “You look good enough to eat, sweetheart..!”
Vito could only lie there as the image came into view: his curvy obsession wearing her usual pink pencil dress, a crimson red scarf snug against her neck, tied in a pretty bow. He bit his lip as he thought about how the dress would hug her hips, how they would show off her pretty legs and outline her thighs. He thought of his nimble fingers undoing the delicate knot until there was nothing but juicy flesh peeking through.
He heard the door shut and more giggling followed by the usual things people would say after time apart.
"How’ve you been?”, “What have you been up to?”, “Are you okay?”--things of that sort. At least two of those sentences came out of either of their mouths.
He concentrated on the sound of their footsteps as they approached the living room, the sugary-sweet smell growing stronger and stronger.
“Damn, that smells delicious, what’cha got there?” asked Joe from the kitchen
Vito couldn’t make out what the guest said through her high whines of appreciation, but he could make out the word ‘candied yams’.
“Put 'em on the stove, we got some catching up to do..” was Joe’s response--which was followed by an interested hum from his lady.
Vito stared at the wall, hearing footsteps approaching his door. Someone was dragging their feet--it had to be Joe.
“G’night, princess!” the large man joked before he closed his bedroom door.
Vito closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Finally, he could get some sleep.
Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed as Vito lay unconscious in his world of warmth. With the macrocosm outside of his own blasting cold air, he subconsciously wrapped himself tighter in it, mumbling various scenarios and ideas. He lay resting on weightless pillows and dreaming of various entities, distant squeaking, and whining growing louder and louder with each passing second. Eventually prying open his eyes, he tossed over in his blankets to tune in to the sound.
"Arch your back, sweetheart…” was what Vito made out through the walls before a pleasured whine wriggled through the wooden partition.
His brows furrowed as he listened closer, just to confirm his suspicions. Through the walls, he could hear her voice rise higher with an accompanying squeak from the couch.
“Aw, fuck…” Vito groaned quietly. First, Joe invites someone over into his home, then proceeds to fuck that someone on his couch that he bought with his own money. Great. Just great.
“That fuckin’ pig…”Grumbled Vito as he flipped over.
He tried to ignore the ruckus the best he could, but her moans rang throughout the room, no matter how bad she tried to quiet them. It made Vito question if Joe was really that good in the sack. The thought of ‘Poodle’ enjoying herself simmered into the crevices of Vito’s mind, as quickly as it pitched a tent between his thighs.
The tightness in Vito's boxers only increased as his mind painted a picture of his crush, and how everything was going down. He let out an annoyed grunt, squirming to relieve some aching.
"Ooh shit, right there...!” she cried out, followed by a muffled moan.
He focused on her noises of pleasure, imagining her moaning for him, squirming for him, crying out for him.
However, to his disgust, Joe was just as vocal.
He could make out his comments through the walls, regardless if they were muffled or not.
"You're a noisy little bitch, huh?" He heard Joe groan, "makin' all that damn noise…"
"She sure is…” Vito thought, “just the way I like ‘em..”
Vito groaned, his eyes closed, a hand laying dormant on his crotch, the thought of the pretty woman pulling the other close and kissing him passionately running through his head. He imagined moving to her neck, kissing and leaving marks on it, all while feeling up and groping her tender chest.
He grunted in frustration, wishing he was behind her instead of Joe. She should be moaning for him, kissing him--all of those pretty noises that escaped her mouth--wasted on the ears of a no-good maroon.
"Oh, Joe,” he heard her moan, “what--what if Vito catches us?"
Vito palmed himself at the sound of that.
"What, you want him to catch us?” Joe huffed, “You want him to watch or somethin’?”
Vito let out a grunt of his own as he thought about it. He wanted Joe to watch. He wanted to show him how to properly please a woman as sweet and caring as ‘Poodle’. Joe would be so mad, but it only made Vito all the more excited. Him fucking his best friend's main squeeze? Diabolical. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that a pervert like Joe would enjoy the sight of his favorite piece getting some action from his longtime friend--and for some reason, it made Vito extremely delighted.
"I bet ya do..” Joe teased, “...fuck..”
"..fuck.." Vito echoed, his thighs trembling from the harsh thrust that accompanied his strokes. He could tell that Joe got rougher, the sound of skin meeting skin picking up speed, masculine groans and gasps piercing Vito's ears.
"Hold me!" She begged, "please..!"
Vito squirmed in his bed, grasping the sheets with his toes as he writhed and whined.
"Oh baby…" Vito moaned quietly against his pillow, thinking about his arms coming around to her front--wrapping around her and pushing her upright so that she was pressed against his body. His hips never stopped for a second. All Vito could do was moan and whimper, sinking into a pit of perversion.
He thought about the challenging glances he would give Mister Barbaro, the way he would snuggle his face up against the girl's cheek, stroke her stomach and massage her chest with the hand that held her up. His eyelashes brushed against her face as they closed shut, his vocal cords rumbling when he let out a hum of satisfaction, his lips getting caught between his teeth.
"Joe don't fuck you like this, does he?" Vito panted through his blankets, visualizing Joe watching him as he went to town on his precious, little doll, touching himself to the sights, knowing damn well that Vito was better than him.
He could only dream of how her hands would grab the blankets as the moans and yelps persisted, twisting the fabric into little swirls. She was such a noisy little thing, letting loose any sound that came from her throat.
“Say my name…” grunted Joe.
Vito waited eagerly for the response, and when it came, Vito thought of her calling out his name instead, the way her toes would curl, how she’d throw her head back against the pillows he rested his lonely head on. It was enough to make him throb.
"Feels good, don't it?" Vito whispered to himself.
“Fuck yes!” she cried out, almost as if she had heard the young man’s thoughts.
Shivers ran down his back as he focused on the sounds of their kisses and whines, the sounds that she got out of Joe, how good it must’ve felt--how much he envied Joe.
Joe chuckled at her pathetic moans and gasps.
"You're close, aren't you?" Joe interrogated.
Vito pressed his body closer against the wall as he listened.
"Uh-huh.." she responded.
In Vito's field of fantasy, he made sure she was close to her edge. It was Vito that made her walls tremble, Vito that made her mind go blank, Vito who got her bite marks on his neck and her scratches down his back. Joe wasn't even part of the picture.
He grew frustrated that Joe was balls deep in his south-side angel. He just wanted to jerk her head towards the eyes that watched them and say,
"I want you to look him in the eyes when you make a mess,".
In fact, he couldn't help but mutter it to himself, trembling in the glee of watching Joe whimper at the noises she made for Vito, at the blissed-out face she would be making because of Vito.
Soon, their noises grew louder and louder, eventually preventing Vito to think altogether. He could feel his mind melting into goo, his body trembling as the Joe and 'Poodle' acapella bounced off the walls, despite their efforts to quiet down. Giving up on being silent, Vito decided to join them, setting free moans and whines of his own. He panted and whined, thinking of his beautiful mochaccino, praising him, kissing him, fucking him.
He remembered something Joe told him about how he fucked her so good, her eyes rolled back into her head. Just the image alone further pushed his aggressive fervor. He smirked a little, pigs always squeal the loudest when they got what they wanted.
Vito's breath hitched when he thought about him making her do that, all on display for the peanut gallery to gawk at.
“You like this don’t you,” he asked shakily, “your boyfriend watching you get fucked by a real man?"
“Yes!” she squeaked in delirium, “God, yes!" Sadly, referring to her lover instead of him.
His body tingled as his thrusts got deeper and out of control, Vito's breath getting caught in his chest as he choked on his sounds.
The couch's squeaking slowed down.
“...damn, I’m close…” he heard Joe grunt, “You want it inside, dollie?”
Vito couldn’t take much more of this.
“please, please, please!” she babbled, her cries of pleasure ringing in the men's ears.
'Please' was all she needed to say. His guttural groan was all she and Vito heard before he defiled her tender interior, Vito's smile wide as he slammed against her three more times.
"Jeez, what a mess.." Joe croaked.
Vito got rougher with his strokes at Joe's observant remark, going from slow and steady to quick and hurried. He was beginning to lose control, his breath hitching and coming out in drawn-out sighs. He was about to bust. No doubt about that.
Another push, another tug, and--
“Oh shit! Oh, sh-shit…!” Vito yelped, his back arching as his voice grew loud and gruff. Every last bit of tension released in a series of moans and curses. The consequences of his actions dripped and dribbled onto his hand--some spraying onto the inside of his underwear. He surfed the wave of ecstasy for as long as he could, until he crashed back to earth, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed and half-open.
“Fuck,” He repeated in a whisper, far too lost in a sea of bliss to feel his thighs ache and shake, threatening to buckle beneath him, too far gone to notice that the commotion had stopped before he spilled over the edge.
“Ay, Vito!” Yelled Joe from the living room, “You alright in there?”
Vito’s expression went from one of pure bliss to pure fright. Oh shit. Did they--?
“Ah, ye-yeah I’m fine, Joe…” he replied shakily, wiping his hand on the front of his boxers.
“You sure?” Vito heard, “You don’t sound fine.”
Vito sat up on his bed. “I’m fine!” he replied, “I just saw a spider.”
Joe’s laugh rang throughout the place, the same way his groans did only moments ago.
“Well, when you’re done pissin’ your pants, get out here!” he jeered, “Renae bought over some candied yams!”
Vito raised his eyebrows. Huh, so her name was Renae. He huffed as he cracked his neck, disappointed that a name so pretty was desecrated by a swine's tongue.