#jojo doppio

He pulls away only to murmur against your lips as his fingers trail up and down your bare arms. Half-lidded eyes flicker across his face to take in the deep blush sprawled across his freckled cheeks and just how intently he’s looking at you.

“Sure,” you breathe out, and Doppio wastes no time before he’s pulling away. He shuffles around in the drawer of the nightstand, and you can’t help but notice the grin that tugs at his lips when he proudly presents the black blindfold to you.

You take in the sight of the piece of fabric. It looks like silk, something soft and sleek especially when he scoots closer to dangle it in front of your face.

“Do you like it?”

Doppio chirps as he smiles at you, eyes scrunching in the corners with the tilt of his head. That smile only widens when you nod and stroke your fingers along the blindfold in his hands.

“It’s nice.”

Doppio hums in agreement before he’s pressing a kiss to your lips again, hands now reaching up to brush against your temples with the blindfold between his fingers. 

The material presses softly against your eyes as he secures it around your head, and darkness overtakes your vision. You hear the sheets rustle when Doppio moves and the faint hiss between his teeth when he sucks in a breath.

“Can you see anything?” he softly asks, falling silent when you shake your head.

“Nothing at all.”

The silence that follows goes on for a long beat as neither of you move and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s left the bedroom all together.

“Doppio-”

The call of his name morphs into a gasp when fingers dance along your hip. The touch is feather-like, barely even there before he’s pulling away again. The mattress dips and creaks under his weight, and your eyes flicker behind the blindfold in an attempt to track his movements.

Then there’s nothing once more, but you can feel his eyes upon you. Watching and waiting. You can sense his presence and vaguely hear the bated breath that threatens to slip from his lips. Your own part, and the syllables of his name form on your tongue.

“Tesoro,” he breathes out, deep and heavy and low. It nearly doesn’t sound like Doppio at all. The tone is dark, and the cadence of that petname he frequently calls you lands all wrong.

“Do I need to teach you a lesson in patience?”

The air suddenly shifts, thickening to where it’s almost suffocating as it warps around you. Something about it feels all wrong, especially as you no longer feel Doppio’s familiar gaze upon you. You don’t even hear the bed creak before he’s suddenly in front of you with two fingers finding your chin to tilt your head from side to side.

Lips brush against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating off his body that inches every bit closer to yours. The hand at your chin, warm and calloused, trails down to brush against your throat. There’s a firm squeeze to the base, and the breath catches at the sheer and utter power that lies behind those digits so lazily wrapped around your neck. You know he can feel you tense, yet the hand remains.

He takes a breath, still just hovering in front of you like he’s waiting, almost daring you to make the next move with his hair tickling your cheek.

“Doppio…”

There’s no answer, only the flexing of his fingers against the tender flesh of your throat while the other hand settles at your hip. It’s only then does he lean in to close the distance with his lips slotting against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, wet and messy and dominating in a way that makes your knees weak and your head spin.

You reach for him with a trembling hand, fingers just barely grazing against his toned chest before the hand at your hip is no longer there - instead snatching your wrist and pinning it by your head with enough force to send a jolt of pain down your arm. If he notices you wince, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he keeps you there. Pinned in place as the hand at your throat slowly trails down to cup one of your breasts with a thumb brushing against the stiff nipple.

A shudder wracks through your body, and your eyelids flutter beneath the blindfold at the sensation. It’s then that you realize that you feel him when he shifts above you, length hard and leaking against the inside of your thigh. The hand at your breast dips lower and lower with his fingertips brushing along your tummy before reaching your mound.

A gasp falls from your lips when two fingers swipe along your wet folds, and you hear a low, rumbling hum of approval from the depths of his chest. The grip on your wrist is released, but your hand remains against the bed with goosebumps rising on your skin as his hands end up at your hips. They smooth across the heated skin before giving a firm squeeze, and you feel the mattress shift underneath you when he settles between your legs.

You find yourself holding your breath, especially when the tip of his cock prods at your opening. There’s little resistance when he pushes in, but the stretch is immense as inch after inch works its way into you. The feeling of being full overtakes you, and you think dumbly that for some reason he feels bigger. Much bigger. But then he’s moving, setting a harsh pace with his hips snapping into yours that has your head falling back amongst the pillows.

Your hands are on him now with no room left to think, scrambling for purchase at his broad shoulders as you moan. And this time, he doesn’t push you away. He lets your nails rake down his back and shoulders, no doubt leaving angry red streaks against his pale skin. 

“D-Doppio!” you cry out with the arch of your back off the sheets, moaning and writhing as he pounds into your cunt. It’s almost too much with the way his cock drags in and out of your clenching walls and how his cockhead bullies against your cervix. Doppio’s name falls from your lips like a matra, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air along with the wet squelch of your pussy.

And then you hear it: a low growl that you can feel clawing its way out of the depths of his chest. The pace gets meaner, angrier as the breath is knocked out of your lungs and your back slides against the sheets with a particularly hard thrust. All you can do is cry out and cling to him tighter as your orgasm steadily grows, faintly feeling his head resting in the crook of your neck now.

He’s growling again, low and muffled against your skin as you can just barely make out the words.

“Mine.”

But it’s there like a prayer even after you’ve cum on his cock, body trembling and legs tightening around his hips with that too deep voice echoing in your mind.

“You’re fucking mine.”

His hips stutter as he loses his rhythm with a bruising grip on your hips, and he sheathes himself inside of you one final time with that sticky warmth flooding your walls. You feel as the tension slowly begins to melt away from his form, body growing soft and pliant when he slumps against you.