Work Text:
Rome, Italy, 2006. Five years since Diavolo’s fall, and Guido Mista couldn’t be more content to know and trust Passione’s new boss. No longer was the man shrouded in mystery, a man whose identity was essentially nonexistent, almost invincible. A man who somehow garnered trust through his efficiency, secrecy, and protection. No, this boss, he knew well from a couple jobs in the past, including killing the previous boss himself. A long journey that tightened their bond through teamwork and several near-death experiences -- the boss certainly saved his ass several times.
Instead of ruling on a facade of untouchability, Giorno Giovanna used compassion to his advantage. Several months after taking the old boss’s place, he announced his identity, except he managed to convince the majority of the gang that he, Giorno Giovanna, had been the boss the entire time, wiping away Diavolo’s existence. He was the mastermind. He held the power and the cunning despite his young age. And Mista admired him for that.
As second-in-command, it was Mista’s duty to report to Giorno about anything new that happened within their infrastructure as well as pass along reports from the smaller groups. Mista found it hard to say he was second-in-command, since many other men (like Polnareff, for example, who had been through fascinating adventures) deserved the role. That, and two squared was the Number That Must Not Be Named. Although the fear ran deep, the thought that someone like Giorno would consider someone like Giorno worthy to be in such a high position gave him some confidence, even if it meant he had to do actual work.
One upside to being second-in-command was that he spent more time with Giorno than anyone else in Passione, which made him feel warm in his gut. Knowing he was the only one who knew precisely the way Giorno organized his reports. Knowing Giorno read every word Mista wrote, so he spent extra time managing his scrawling handwriting, making sure each “i” was dotted just right and each “t” crossed without running into other letters. Everything needed to be perfect for Giorno, not because he demanded it, but because Mista knew he deserved it.
Mista knew Giorno deserved everything, but he didn’t deserve Mista. Especially since, as everyone from Buccellati’s gang knew, Mista was already involved with Trish Una, who pursued a career as a pop star after her father died. And she was fairly successful, too -- when her first chart-topper released, Mista listened to it obsessively, swelling with pride, and he even caught Giorno playing it in his office one night.
A pop star and a gang star. Two stars that Mista fell in love with, but he knew he would only be able to have one. But knowing this didn’t stop him from thinking about the gang star a little too much.
Just as the sun started to descend, Mista knocked on the boss’s private chamber doors, his wardrobe still a clashing pattern mess just as it had been three years ago. He itched at his exposed stomach, his happy trail giving an air of nonchalance, some papers in his other hand. “Daily report incoming,” he shouted.
“Come in,” came the reply.
Mista entered the room and saw Giorno seated at his desk, just about done setting aside other papers to make room for Mista’s report. A daily habit. Mista dropped the papers in the center of the desk and said, “There ya go, boss.”
Giorno sighed, but kept a gentle smile on his face. “Please, stop calling me boss in private. We’re closer than that.”
Mista huffed and rolled his shoulders, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. The heat rising far too often. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the boss. And you deserve all the respect that you’ve earned, so I might as well show it.”
“It’s not something I expect or really desire from anyone from Buccellati’s gang, as long as we’re away from prying ears,” Giorno said, rising. Despite all the time for growth, Giorno was still only at about average height, while Mista himself managed to grow another inch. He continued to wear his hair in three golden whorls, braided in the back. His blue eyes stared into Mista’s, somehow still as focused and deadly as they had been during their greatest scheme.
“I’ll try to manage that better, Giorno.”
“Good.”
Mista waved and turned, but Giorno stepped away from his desk, asking, “Off already?”
Mista glanced back at Giorno and blinked. He scratched his face. “Oh, yeah, I was gonna walk around Rome for a bit. Maybe stop by the Coliseum. Feeling a bit nostalgic.”
“May I join you?”
Mista itched at his shoulder next. “Well, the thing is, I sort of planned this walk with someone else.” But the feeling in his chest ached. It’d been so long since he and Giorno got a chance to talk about things both related and unrelated to work, going out to get pizza as if they were teenagers again, as if they weren’t tied up in the Italian Mafia and things weren’t so complicated.
So the words came out of his mouth: “But what the hell, I’d love to have you come along.”
Giorno’s eyes flashed bright one moment before he asked cautiously, “Is it safe for me to come along?”
“Yeah. It’s just Trish, so everything’s good.”
“Ah, Trish. It’d be nice to catch up with her, too,” Giorno said, quickly and efficiently tucking away the rest of the papers in various drawers. “Were you headed out now?”
“Yeah, come on then.”
Mista and Giorno walked along the streets, where Mista mostly complained about several subordinates and their leniency on drugs, trying to reassure Giorno he was doing everything in his power to keep the substances away from the children. Giorno remained professional and was careful to remain vague as he pointed out areas where he could see improvement within Passione. Work stuff. Stuff Mista hoped to work through once they met up with Trish. Although offered a spot in the gang back when Giorno first took control, Trish turned down any involvement with the gang. “It reminds me of my father,” she had said, her face pouting, then frowning with furrowed brows at her brief memories of him.
Meanwhile, Mista felt droplets of sweat collecting on his brow, covered and made even more uncomfortable by his cap. He called Trish and informed her of their guest before leaving the building, but he had never been good at talking with girls when nervous. Although talking to Trish got easier as the months went by, anything that he thought she would disapprove of caused him to hesitate and sweat profusely. Plus, only recently have the two been close. Very close. And Giorno didn’t know.
Despite his worries, Trish smiled and waved when she saw the two men approaching. “It’s been a while, Giorno,” Trish said casually.
Giorno nodded. “How are things, Trish?”
“Pretty well, all things considered,” she said as they began their walk, Trish claiming the spot in between the two men. “I’ve only been singing professionally for a year and my songs are getting a bit of attention. Nothing like a greatest hit, but it’s better than no attention at all.”
Mista yearned to put an arm around Trish’s shoulder, but Giorno was right there, right next to Trish and that would sent the message too obviously. Mista was usually lax on public displays of affection, but right now, he found he didn’t want Giorno to know.
Trish continued to bring Giorno up to speed on her budding pop singer career. Giorno commented that he sometimes listened to her songs, deeply enthralled by her singing voice. Trish laughed and waved him off. “I know I’m good, but to hear someone so important say that is flattering as hell.”
Mista took in a breath, watching the two of them smile and laugh with one another. Most other people would find themselves jealous if their romantic partner seemed too friendly with someone of another sex, but instead, Mista thought curiously, how easy it would be if Giorno and Trish did start have feelings for one another. Because then, his thoughts wouldn’t feel so ridiculously unattainable.
He licked his lips and glanced around, feeling his body perspire further. After an hour of walking, Giorno paused and dismissed himself, saying he had more work to complete. As soon as he was well away, Trish brushed up next to Mista and said, “Wanna go to my place to get a bit more comfortable?”
Mista nodded, finding words difficult, mind filling with a conversation he’d been playing on repeat. How he would tell Trish. Imagining all of the ways it could go wrong. Knowing he was gross and disgusting for feeling this way.
Trish brought him to her small apartment, which was simply decorated with a few pieces of furniture and dark floral wallpaper. Mista planted himself on her couch as Trish found a remote to start searching channels for something to watch, her body right next to his, her breasts against his arm as she curled up against him. Mista could only sweat more, barely registering what the actors on the television were saying.
It didn’t take long for Trish to wrinkle her nose and pull her head away. “You sure are sweatier than usual.”
Mista shrugged and tried to think of some excuse, but nothing came.
Trish gently took his chin and turned his head to face him. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no! It’s just…” He wracked his brain trying to think of something for the second time, but found nothing but a simple, “I was wondering how you feel about Giorno.”
“Giorno? Really?”
Mista shrugged again. “Yeah, you know, considering him tagging along was a last minute thing. Just want to make sure I’m not making you spend time with people you don’t like.”
Trish hit the mute button and set the remote down, glancing away to think. “I guess it’s a bit strange to be friends with someone who… took out my father and claimed his position, but it was for a good reason. It’s not like my dad wanted to transport me here to raise me and be a good dad. I like everyone in Buccellati’s gang, and I don’t mind spending time with them. And I imagine getting some time out of that office is good for Giorno’s health. He’s a good guy, I just don’t want to get too involved in gang stuff again. Dating you is enough,” this she ended with a nudge of her elbow.
Right, she was too sweet to do something like boast about how attractive he was. Because she must feel something , hopefully. But Mista couldn’t muster up a goofy grin quick enough to her quip, and Trish peered at him again.
“What’s up with you tonight? You were pretty quiet on the walk, too. What I think about Giorno can’t be the only thing that’s bothering you, right?”
Oh, but it was. Kind of. Mista took in a deep breath.
Trish took Mista’s hands in her own, and in a stern voice, said, “Talk to me.”
Mista sighed and looked at her, palms already sweating into her and Mista already feeling gross and anticipating Trish letting go in disgust. “Look, I gotta tell you something, but I don’t want you to freak out. Or think differently of me. It’s been on my mind for a while now.”
“Hearing those words isn’t exactly comforting,” Trish exhaled, and Mista could feel a small shudder shoot across her body, “but go on.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual. Like, you know, I dig both guys and girls. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”
“Oh,” Trish exhaled, covering her mouth. Mista’s chest hurt and he tried to think of something to assuade her anger that must be rising, but her shoulders shook, a giggle coming from behind her hand. “I was seriously worried for a minute, Guido.”
Mista’s face burned. “You mean you’re not gonna flip out or like, call me a huge pervert?”
“It’s not like being bisexual makes you wanna cheat on me, right? Another pop idol I talk to sometimes is very open about her sexuality, if you’re wondering where I’m basing this from.”
“Y-yeah, I definitely don’t really wanna fuck around with everyone behind your back,” Mista emphasized, and his hand made its way to the back of his neck, itching nervously. But I kind of want to fuck Giorno Giovanna, but I don’t wanna be with him alone.
Still, Trish was looking at him with a tilted head and pursed lips. “Any reason why you’re telling me this now?”
Mista shrugged and gulped. “Just felt like it was about time I told you.”
“So it has nothing to do with Giorno?”
More sweat. “Giorno? W-why do you ask that?”
Trish blew out air and put a hand on her hip. “First off, you’re terrible at lying to me. Second, it’s quite the coincidence that you’re confessing this to me after inviting Giorno to our date. I haven’t even seen him in months, plus your face always gets a little red when you gush about how great of a job he’s doing.”
“Hold on,” Mista forced himself to chuckle, faking an amused smile in an attempt to distract her from his immense sweating problem, “you’re not suggesting that I’m telling you I’m bisexual because I also have feelings for Giorno and was hoping you’d get a crush on him too? You know I’m too dumb for that kind of plan.”
“You’re not dumb,” Trish said, taking Mista’s hands into her own. Mista quickly frowned, hating how gross and sweaty his palms were, yet Trish didn’t let go. “I’m suggesting that you’re telling me this now so that I won’t freak out about your obvious crush on Giorno.”
“If it was so obvious, why didn’t you bring it up before?”
“I’m not going to assume anything about your sexuality. Except I guess I pretty much assumed you were straight until proven otherwise. But still, it wasn’t something I wanted to push because you could have easily been admiring Giorno in a simple heroic way.”
Mista glanced away, feeling like a complete idiot because he was supposed to be more mature, he was supposed to be handling things better than someone younger than him, he was supposed to be somewhat good at lying and covering things up as a gang member. But when it came to women, especially Trish, who he didn’t want to lose, his thoughts failed him. And as someone who lost track of a rehearsed confession and suggestion in his head, Mista defaulted to saying, “Trish, you know I love you. Being bisexual doesn’t change that at all, but I also… as you said, I have a crush on Giorno. I’ve had one on him for a while, but it’s not in a way that makes me want to leave you for him. I just kind of wish he could slide right in with us. All of us together, being happy and doing fun things together. There’s no way that can happen unless you like him, too. I want you to be happy above anything else, and if you say the words, I’ll actively do what I can to stop feeling this way. I’ll always be devoted to you.”
Mista raised his face but saw Trish was staring off into the distance. I knew I’d fuck it up , he told himself, I knew this was impossible, and now she’ll leave me because I’m suggesting a threeway -- no, an open thing with all three of us together , and his thoughts increased in panic--
And he froze when Trish smiled, showing her bright teeth and she met his eyes. “So you want to make a Giorno sandwich?”
“Trish!” Mista said, face growing ever hotter. “I can’t believe you actually -- what do you even mean by that?”
“You know, Giorno in between us, us rocking his world. I bet he’s still a virgin. Imagine that.”
“I can’t believe this right now. You’re encouraging a threeway!”
“I never said I would be opposed to one. And having the third member be a man instead of a woman makes it more comfortable to me. Plus,” Trish said with a simple shrug, “Giorno’s pretty attractive. I always liked how he did his hair, and how he’s a smart, calculating person who gets things done.”
All Mista could clearly think was how everything was running as smoothly as he hoped, to the point where it felt like a dream. He pinched his arm and felt pain, hearing Trish chuckle near him. “You’re absolutely sure about this? Like, what if I actually told Giorno about this idea and he went with it, would you still want to be with me after it ends? This won’t ruin anything?”
“You’re thinking too hard about this, Mista. If we’re doing this, we’ll be together with him. You clearly want this, even if you’re bad at being blunt about it, and I’m not against the idea. Sounds like it’d be fun.”
Of all the things Mista could say to show his gratitude, his giddiness, his love, he settled with, “Trish, you’re amazing.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
Mista pouted, to which Trish giggled and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, stinky.”
Coated in sweat and trying to focus, Mista entered Giorno’s office and shuffled his reports around. When it came to physical combat, Mista could easily focus on his surroundings and come up with a battle plan (even if they rarely succeeded alone -- and for those unfortunate battles, Giorno was naturally the one to thank). When it came to matters of feelings and physical sensations, the words couldn’t organize themselves properly. Sugarcoating became difficult, but not everyone appreciated bluntness. A small voice in Mista’s head wondered how he and Trish ever got together when he was like this.
Giorno gave him a gentle smile which set his heart into panic mode again. Mista dropped the reports on his desk and said, “You have a minute?” Giorno nodded.
Mista took a seat and adjusted his shirt, which started to feel damp underneath from all the sweat. Giorno tilted his head and peered closely at Mista’s face. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Mista replied too loudly. “Why would you ask that?”
“For one, your face is red and damp. Second, you’re not as relaxed as you usually are. If a member of the gang slipped up, don’t stress about your position being in danger because you know I’m not as cruel as the last Boss. I’ll listen to whatever--”
“It’s not related to Passione.”
“If it’s personal, I’m willing to listen anyway,” Giorno said as he steepled his fingers, giving Mista his full attention. His deep blue eyes just had to be so comforting and scary at the same time. Mista gulped.
“W-well you see, lately I’ve been a bit worried about you. Like, not being able to socialize and get to know other people, do regular things here and there. That’s part of why I invited you out with me and Trish yesterday since you already know her and all.”
Giorno’s eyes narrowed slightly, analyzing Mista’s face and mouth and mannerisms. After a second, he said, “I’m not sure why you would be concerned with me being social.”
“Because, friend-to-friend, I want you to be happy. You’re always in this building doing work. I leave and you’re still in the room. I don’t even really know for sure if you have your own place to stay or if this is all you have. You need some breathing room outside of gang work.”
“This work is important to me and the city. Many things happen at night when the late members are on the lookout.” Giorno lowered his hands and took in a breath. Mista knew all of this, naturally. If it wasn’t important to Giorno, then why would he work so hard to keep drugs off the street, away from kids (even if it took drastic measures to do so). But this wasn’t how Mista saw the conversation going at all, and he couldn’t think of a smooth transition to the real proposition. So he did what he was good at.
“What I’m trying to say, Giorno, is that I want you to get some.”
Giorno blinked. “Some…?”
“You know, some. ”
“Some what?”
Mista groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “Giorno, have you ever slept with anyone? Or even kissed anyone?”
Giorno leaned back, his eyes widened, but no other sign of surprise or alarm on his face, but Mista could tell he was thrown off. Slowly, Giorno said, “What brings this up?”
“Like I said, I was worried about you being cooped up in here all the time,” Mista said, shrugging and rolling his shoulders. He already fucked up the conversation, so there was no risk in being as blunt and unprofessional as possible. “And, well, I worry about you because I like you.”
“As a friend?” Giorno asked, his tone still monotone and serious, deliberately slow. As if he saw right through Mista.
Mista itched at his stomach and glanced away. “Well. I don’t think so, not anymore. I mean, being your right hand man and your friend is fine, and I’m proud to be both of those to you, but lately I’ve come to realize that sometimes I want to be more than that with you.”
Giorno looked down for a moment. “But what about Trish? You’re with her romantically, aren’t you? Isn’t that cheating?”
“I already talked with her about all of this, and she said that she’s down if you are.”
“You’re serious about this,” Giorno said, looking up but his voice was still masked in flatness.
“Yes, I am.”
In that moment, Mista could spy a hint of pink on Giorno’s cheeks, but the younger man frowned and swiveled away in his chair.
“If this all upsets you, I apologize,” Mista said, shooting up, his heart thumping, “and we can pretend this never happened. I don’t wanna disrespect you, but you’ve been on my mind. And I’m terrible at talking about this thing. It could work, I think, otherwise I wouldn’t put forward this idea.”
Giorno raised a hand to silence Mista, to which he complied. “It’s not that it offends me, it’s simply sudden. I need to think about it.”
Slowly an obvious possibility came over Mista, and his body visibly wilted. “Look, if I’m being way too forward or assuming things like you actually being interested in doing this with me or Trish or both of us, don’t feel pressured to agree to it. This all started with a stupid thought anyway--”
Giorno raised his hand yet again to speak. “Don’t stress yourself out about this. The reason why I need to think,” he turned as he spoke, “is because, quite frankly, years ago, you were the closest person to me in Buccellati’s gang. You opened your arms when everyone else was busy snickering and pissing in cups to bully me. I don’t hold it against them, God rest their souls, but I always appreciated you taking me seriously, seeing me as an equal. Being my friend. And sometimes when I have a free moment, I think about those days, and... “
Mista held his breath.
“I wonder if it could have gone differently if one of us said something later down the road, before you started dating Trish, who’s lovely herself and deserves to be with you. But perhaps one of the responsibilities of being the boss of Passione is to make sure nothing can distract you from work, including intimate relationships.”
“That’s bullshit,” Mista said, sneering a bit at the thought. “Diavolo isolated himself and lived in paranoia for who knows how long. I don’t think he did himself any good. And if you want to see someone or sleep around, all you have to do is be careful. There’s no reason to sacrifice experiences if you don’t want to.”
Giorno said nothing, simply turned and stared at a wall, thinking. Looking at the cracks in the paint, the cabinets stuffed with gang secrets and miscellaneous papers Giorno considered important.
“Well, if you want to be with -- well, me and Trish, let me know. You’ll see me every day anyway.”
As Mista turned and walked toward the door, he paused to add in a lower, quieter voice, “I hope I didn’t make things horribly awkward between us just now.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Guido.”
That sent shivers down his spine.
Days passed where mere words and sentences passed between Mista and Giorno, starting with daily reports and ending with a simple nod or “good work.” Days passed where Mista could think of nothing but having Giorno’s body in between himself and Trish, planting kisses everywhere, hearing Trish’s giggle, hearing Giorno’s virgin moans. Days passed where Mista stood outside Giorno’s door, took in a deep breath, exhaling with the hope that today was the day Giorno would say yes or, in a fleeting thought, Giorno would throw himself into his arms, inhaling his stench without recoiling, used to being close and personal like Trish. Days passed where staying strictly professional was getting more difficult as his stomach tightened in intricate knots when he glimpsed Giorno’s face.
He watched Giorno’s face, hoping for something to show. And as the days stretched, even hearing a rejection seemed easier than waiting. It took a week for Mista to think of the brilliant idea that was wooing Giorno in his favor.
A day came where Mista held a stack of papers on top of a slim box. Upon seeing the larger stack, Giorno narrowed his eyes, puzzling over it as Mista placed it on his desk. “Today’s reports, as well as a little extra something for being both a great boss and a friend.”
Giorno couldn’t hide his curiosity as he quickly set aside the reports and opened the warm box. He took a whiff of its contents and sighed happily with a smile. “Pizza margherita,” he said.
“It’s not from Naples, but I thought you might enjoy it no matter where it came from,” Mista said, grinning and taking a seat, something he hadn’t done since the day of his proposition. “I remember you talking about it several times on our first mission.”
“I’m glad you were paying attention, then,” Giorno said before taking a slice. They sat in comfortable silence as they ate, Mista being guilty of looking at Giorno a bit too long. Giorno, on the other hand, stared off to the side, savoring the moment as long as he could as he chewed on pizza and thoughts.
Once one slice remained, Giorno wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked, “So is there any other reason why you decided to treat me today?”
Feigning hurt, Mista replied, “Didn’t I say that I simply wanted to treat my boss and friend to something special?”
“Sure, but is it not also because you’re getting impatient?”
“Me, impatient? Of course not,” Mista huffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t want to push you to do anything.” With a small slump of his shoulders, he added, “I do miss some of our leisure time, though. Sorry I made things so tense.”
“You’re making it tense for yourself. I already told you not to worry about it. I wouldn’t do something like demote you or end our friendship over this because no matter what, you’re the one I trust the most.”
Mista leaned back in his seat. “I don’t even care about demotions. I can be third, fifth, sixth, hell, even an underling, and I won’t complain. Just being under you is--”
“You really have to use that phrasing?” Giorno said with a smirk, cocking his eyebrow.
Mista snorted. That was certainly an improvement over their professional silence. “I swear that wasn’t on purpose, although I wouldn’t object to it at all.”
Giorno lifted his head, looking Mista up and down. “Neither would I.”
So this is happening now after all, Mista thought. Success.
“You know, if you’d be comfortable with it, you could come over to Trish’s apartment tonight for dinner, maybe a movie, or you know, other things.”
“Sounds fine with me.” Giorno’s eyelids fluttered and lowered just a bit. Mista felt the heat run through his body, growing warm in several places. Mista took out scrap paper and jotted down Trish’s address to distract himself.
“So-so see you in a few hours.”
“See you later,” Giorno said finally.
Being young adults who were terrible at cooking, Trish and Mista ordered food to go and brought it over, assuming Giorno wouldn’t be too picky of an eater. All the while, Trish grinned widely, saying things such as, “This is only the appetizer” and “I’m wearing my sexy underwear.” Making Mista sweat more and more, beads dropping along with his heartbeat.
Once Giorno arrived, the three of them began to eat, Giorno offering casual conversation as they consumed everything. The atmosphere of the evening felt more like a real date to Mista, as if his request to Giorno sounded more like an invitation to a polygamous relationship more than some booty call for a threesome conducted by a man who wanted to taste both of his intense crushes at once. He wondered, for a moment, if that made him selfish, if it made him the terrible older one who wanted to have everyone he could without any regard for Trish’s and Giorno’s feelings.
But watching Trish lean toward Giorno distracted Mista. Her pink lips drew close to Giorno’s ear and whispered something, making the blond man flash his teeth and giggle. Mista watched them, watched Trish glance his way, watched Giorno continue staring at Trish.
“You really are beautiful,” he told her.
“Giorno!” Trish covered her mouth and giggled. “It’s so cute hearing you say that.”
“Cute?” he echoed.
“After all the stuff we went through, you never once commented on anyone’s appearance, not even mine. I appreciate it.”
“I’m trying to get used to it.”
“If you want any help or practice, we’ll be here,” Trish whispered close to Giorno, and his face, at this point, matched her lipstick.
Giorno visibly swallowed and said, “Well, I’d like it.”
Trish smiled. “Good.”
“Now.”
“R-really?” Mista said, wiping a bit of sweat forming at his brow.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, taking one of Mista’s hands in his own, one of Trish’s in his other hand. As they rose, Giorno added, “So lead me.”
Mista and Trish led him to the bedroom, the three of them seated near the headboard, Giorno in the middle as Trish desired.
“And you’re sure about this?” Mista asked, wanting Giorno to be completely sure, wanting Giorno (and himself) to have little reason to regret this moment.
Giorno nodded, leaning back against the headboard. It struck Mista that he and Trish really had no plan beyond this point since they weren’t sure when it would happen. So everything had to be improvised. Mista wanted this to go as well as possible, and so he focused.
He inched closer to Giorno until their lips met, very softly. Giorno froze up at first, but slowly let his body relax, returning the kiss while Mista cupped a cheek in his hand, stroking with his thumb. On Giorno’s other side, Trish traced the window of Giorno’s shirt with her finger, feeling Giorno shiver slightly at her touch.
Mista used his free hand to unzip Giorno’s top, which Trish slid off of his shoulders as the men continued to kiss. With Giorno exposed, Trish took to kissing his neck, causing Giorno to struggle to conceal his moans. It took effort for Mista to restrain himself from using his tongue, wanting Giorno to set a comfortable pace for himself.
Giorno began to tremble under Mista’s lips, and the reason came quickly after in the form of Trish letting out a breath. Mista opened an eye to see Giorno groping one of Trish’s breasts. His inexperience seemed to please Trish rather than annoy her, as her smiling hips parted, taking the moment to suck on Giorno’s neck.
“Oh,” he moaned, his other hand snaking up Mista’s chest. Mista gave him another sloppy kiss before backing up to pull off his own shirt, discarding it on the floor. Giorno’s eyebrows rose in interest, his hand idly rubbing up and down his hairy chest, up and down until he reached below his navel, toying with his happy trail.
Mista felt uncomfortably hard, restrained by his clothing, and although the desire to strip was tempting, he wanted Giorno or Trish to do it. Slowly peel it down--
Trish pulled away from Giorno to unhook her top from her neck. Mista and Giorno both held their breaths, because even though Mista had seen Trish naked plenty of times before, it always excited him to see her clothes drop. Mista whistled at the sight, and Trish mock-pouted a second before breaking out in a quiet giggle. Giorno simply stared, his jaw slightly open.
“You can’t tell me you’ve never seen a topless woman before.”
“I don’t keep… certain magazines around, no.”
“Then enjoy it,” Trish cooed, perching herself on Giorno’s lap. After a moment’s hesitation, Giorno cupped her breasts in his hands, staring a bit too hard. He circled his thumbs around her nipples, eliciting quiet, encouraging moans. Mista pulled off his hat and wiped off the sweat covering his face before tossing it aside as well.
With a bit of rearranging, Mista sat behind Giorno, his legs spread out, his dick pressing against Giorno’s rear as the blond man continued to play with Trish’s breasts. Mista kissed Giorno’s neck, tickling him with his stubble. Giorno made a half-giggle, half-moan sound before leaning forward to plant a kiss on Trish’s neck, squeezing at the same time. Trish wrapped her arms around Giorno’s waist as she moaned his name, letting her head drop back.
Mista paused his mischief to run his hands up and down Giorno’s toned, bare back, feeling himself grow hotter and sweatier. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand this, all more intense than he expected. “Giorno,” Mista whispered against Giorno’s neck, “mind helping me out of my pants?”
Getting the hint, Trish slid off of Giorno’s lap to allow him to turn around and stare at the hair leading down to that area, stare at the waistline of the tiger pants. Licking his lips, Giorno pulled them down slowly, but he drew his head back as Mista’s hard dick popped out, clearly expecting underwear. Mista snorted at the reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t warn you I go commando, huh?”
Giorno shook his head. “Not a problem. Rather a pleasant surprise.”
“You can do whatever you’re comfortable with or let Trish take over if you’re not ready for it,” Mista quickly added as Giorno worked at pulling his pants completely off. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
A genuine blush came over Giorno’s face, although Mista noticed it pinking slowly throughout the undressing. “Thanks for being considerate,” he said quietly.
And then he gripped Mista’s cock tightly.
Mista hissed and arched his back. “All right then,” was all he said.
Mista slid down onto the bed, letting Trish settle down next to him and lean against him with all of her weight, kissing his lips. Giorno slowly ran his hand along Mista’s length, as if adjusting himself to it, to everything. Mista leaned against his touch, restraining himself from bucking his hips. He wrapped an arm around Trish’s shoulder, and after a moment of rushed thoughts he placed his other hand on Giorno’s arm.
Mista felt nothing but Trish’s lips on his, Giorno’s hand on his cock, and sweat forming everywhere, open and exposed to the air around him. He gasped as Giorno quickened his pace, as Trish licked his bottom lip and played with the hairs on his chest. Two bodies against his own, edging him close, and in that moment, to Mista, things never felt more right .
His body shuddered as he came, spilling over himself. Trish traced lines on his chest and sighed happily. Giorno stared at their post-coital cuddle, unsure of where he could fit, but Mista’s eyes shot open upon remembering. His plan. His plan that was always doomed to not go as intended.
“Giorno,” he said, sitting up (Trish moving along with him), “come here.”
Mista moved so that Giorno could sit in between the two. Giorno’s eyes looked everywhere and then at his own hands. Trish took to curling up next to the blond and draping an arm over his torso. Giorno rested his eyes and took a breath. Mista tensed at Giorno’s lack of moving and friction and heat and glanced at him only to see him smiling.
Mista whispered, “Would you like for us to do anything for you?”
Giorno shook his head. “This is good. The thought of doing much more is a bit… overwhelming. I appreciate the offer, though.”
Trish glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s not very late, you know. There’s always time. If not today, another time.”
Giorno opened his eyes but didn’t look at either of them, only looking up at the ceiling. “So this isn’t a one time offer or even a strictly physical one?”
“When I said we wanted you to join, we did mean us , the sappy romantic shit, the chill moments, all of it.”
“We like you,” Trish chimed in, “and we’re willing to try it if you are.”
“No pressure to say yes.”
“We can go as slow as you want seeing how you’re such a--”
Giorno rumbled into laughter, silencing Mista and Trish. “Yes, yes. Of course I will. I’ll give it a shot if you don’t mind me keeping it a secret from Passione to keep us safer.”
As the three of them settled down to nap, pulling up covers and checking if each one was comfortable, Mista and Trish continued to cradle Giorno between them. Trish smiled. Giorno smiled. Mista’s chest swelled, surrounded by the people closest to him. It was going to work. He had no plans for how to progress their relationship, but they would all take it a step at a time.