#pierrochi

Remember that I use Pedrollino because I speak french and in french Pierro(t) = Pulcinella so I'm confused erfbrjre

Ah, there was still so much to do.

One of the things Pedrollino hated about taking care of a group of peculiar individuals–and potentially insane–was to bring them all to attend meeting. Most of them didn’t care, others were never here, and it was also a good thing to keep weapons away.

Although most of them were weapons.

“Knock knock.”

The door opened, and Pedrollino forced himself to look up from the pages and pages of information. Who was where; how tensed were the situations in and out Snezhnaya. And there was those excuses handed to him as if he was the dean of a turbulent class. A bit more and they would give him excuses from their parents.

Ah… Tartaglia.

Pedrollino remembered the day where he had to pin the Delusion at the waist of this… boy.

Tartaglia was one of the only Harbinger he didn’t find in the wild and offered him redemption. He knew he was the beloved chickling of his best friend–Pulcinella–but he never saw him. So imagine when he saw this seventeen boy standing in front of him. The youngest Harbinger. One of the strongest one. And by far the most tantalizing one.

Why had he decided to put his Vision at his waist? So Pedrollino had to reach the waist to infuse it with a Delusion and it had been hard to not brush that flat belly, reach for those delicious thighs.

Years only had made him glow up.

“Hi! Dad send me over to know if you needed some help.”

“Well… I may need some help,” Pedrollino said with a smirk.

Tartaglia smiled and walked in.

“What is it about?”

“Just trying to find a new date for the meeting that no one can escape from.”

“Oh, I’d threaten them,” Tartaglia casually said.

Bending in two, he grabbed the pages to look through them. But there was so much to look on, he really didn’t move.

And what a torture it was, those generous peaches exhibit in his direction. How he wished to grab them.

“You can sit, if you want to.”

“You’ll have to get up,” Tartaglia answered without thinking.

“Do I?”

Tartaglia turned the head towards him, straightening, a smile on his lips.

“If I sit on your lap, either people will expect me to ask what I want for Krsnik Noc or to be a GoldDigger and I’ll have to smooch you.”

Pedrollino’s lips stretched in a big smirk.

“Well, do you still make a present list at Krsnik Noc.”

“Not really. You know,” Tartaglia sat on the lap, “I’m quite of a naughty boy.”

Pedrollino’s hand twitched. The need to grab the waist, the thigh, anything. He was teasing him, no?

“You do. You are even taking away my kiss,” Pedrollino said, taking the round chin between two fingers.

“Oh.” Tartaglia chuckled. “I kinda promised it, uh?”