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Three years ago a freshman with a gold braid had smiled sweetly and handed him a blade. It was in that moment Mista learned he could never say no to Giorno Giovanna.
Now, a senior, he had been fencing sabre for three years and had fallen head over heels in love with the blade. Giorno could not have been more pleased in his progress. When the young freshman had joined the team only Bruno had fenced sabre, the rest did foil and epee. Giorno wanted an opponent and he had picked Mista.
It took some time. For a while Mista had felt uncomfortable hitting him. Giorno was 16 when he started college and much smaller than him. Giorno had gotten so frustrated he started attacking Mista, holding nothing back until he landed a good hit.
Even hitting him hard, Mista didn’t flinch and Giorno had lifted his mask up, panting and grinning. “It doesn’t hurt badly. Stop being afraid to hit me. If you give me a bruise I’ll buy you a protein shake.”
Mista had shaken his head, called Giorno a masochist, and learned to hit him.
-- -- --
“Together.”
Giorno gives Mista a small smile as they disconnect. They had both hit the other’s helmet with their blades at the same time.
“Guys, how many points are you going to? Everyone left and I’m hungry,” Narancia whines. “Plus I hate judging sabre. You’re too fast and I don’t know all the rules.”
“One more point to break the tie?” Narancia nods at Giorno’s suggestion.
“Fence!”
It was over in seconds.
“Mista attacked,” Narancia tried to recall the order of the fight, “Giorno parry and riposte?” The two nodded, accepting the judges call. “Alright I’m out. There is a pizza with my name on it back at the apartment.”
He wastes no time in darting out, leaving the other two to clean up. Giorno takes off his mask and extends a hand towards his opponent.
“Payback for last time.”
Mista grins and shakes his hand, chest still heaving from the consecutive bouts. “You lost by three though. I only lost by one.”
Giorno raises a delicate eyebrow in retort humming softly, “Yes, but who is the club president?” Mista rolls his eyes but smiles happily.
Giorno looked forward to these times. Fencing Mista was worth all the time it took to train him. Sabre was an aggressive weapon; one of the fastest sports in the world and not everyone had a personality cut out for it. There was no hesitation on the weapon - no room for holding back or even thinking. Sabre was pure passion and fury. Mista had learned both quickly.
“Help me clean up?” Giorno asks as he heads towards the tiny supply room to drop of his gear.
Mista follows, stretching and yawning as he goes. “Of course.”
It didn’t take them long. Most of the team were good about putting their equipment away after practice but there were a few stray weapons and gloves. Giorno watches Mista stack the last of the boxes up in the corner and slowly pulls the braid out of his hair. It was easier than a bun to fit inside the helmets but taking it out hurt. He pretends not to notice Mista watching as he combs it with his fingers and shapes it into a braid again.
“I never thanked you properly for learning sabre for me.” Giorno finally looks over at his friend, waiting for a response, but was left in a silence for far longer than he had hoped.
“Mista?”
“What?” The older boy blinks and stares at him, “Sorry, zoned out. What'd you say?”
“I said,” Giorno smiles, “I never thanked you for taking up sabre for me.”
“Oh.” Mista just shrugs, “you don’t need to. I like it.” He stretches, pulling his arms above his head. Giorno doesn’t miss the small bit of tan skin visible from where the other’s shirt rode up. If they kept dancing around each other any longer he was going to scream. Three years of knowing Mista, knowing the other had a crush on him and waiting for Mista to get over his shyness and confess was unbearable. He would be graduating in a few weeks so if this went horribly wrong, well, Giorno crushed that thought. Nothing would go wrong.
“Still. I feel like I owe you a favor. Name anything.” Giorno shifts closer and tilts his head, purposely keeping eye contact with Mista. Giorno didn’t know how he could be any clearer, but every time he tries to flirt with the older boy, something tended to go wrong.
Mista blushes and looks over his head. He could see the older boy buffering, waiting for him to figure out what he should say in response. Giorno waits patiently. His conversations with Mista constantly went this way, him waiting ages for a proper response in turn.
“Well. Uh, how ‘bout one of those protein shakes?”
Giorno tries not to let any emotions cross his face but inwardly he sighs. Did he have to do everything himself?
“Mista kiss me.”
Something seems to misfire in Mista’s brain and he stands there, mouth hanging open. This time Giorno does roll his eyes.
One step forward. The distance between him and Mista vanishes. He grabs Mista’s shirt and pulls him forward slightly to kiss his cheek; simply a brush of lips on Mista’s stubbly cheek. “I said... Kiss. Me.” Giorno whispers the command in the older boy’s ear and releases him.
Mista blushes under his tan and he does all that he can to avoid looking Giorno in the eyes. The younger uses just two fingers on his chin to move Mista’s face so the older is looking at him.
“Do you not want to kiss me?” He had thought he did? Giorno had been so sure. After what he had been told, all the clues Mista had carelessly let slip... after everything, he had been sure Mista had feelings for him.
Mista’s eyes go wide as he manages to stutter out a sentence. “No! I mean - that. I - I just. That’s not it. I do - I mean.” His head falls and Giorno removes his hand, too nervous to initiate anything else.
Mista takes a deep breath and starts again. “I do want to kiss you. I just didn’t expect it.” He nervously rubs the back of his neck and Giorno relaxes slightly. He’s still a little on edge but at least Mista is talking now, and even reassured him of his prior suspicions.
“This is weird. I guess. I don’t really know what to do.” Giorno doesn’t let him go any farther. He has waited too long for this. He leans forward again, kissing Mista as sweetly as he knows how to. For once the older boy isn’t wearing his beanie, allowing Giorno to push his fingers into Mista’s hair and locks them there. It’s at this point that Giorno remembers that they are both still sweaty from practice. It doesn’t really bother him at all, considering this had been the closed he had gotten to Mista yet.
He pulls away for a moment to gauge the reaction and Mista licks his lips nervously. “Giorno?” The blond nuzzles his neck and hums for him to continue.
“Why are you doing this?”
That makes the blond stop and face him, deciding to answer bluntly for his confused crush. “Because I like you. I have been flirting with you for three years, have you seriously not noticed?”
“Uhh-”
Giorno can feel himself coloring but he speaks anyway,“because you’re sweet. You notice things when the others don’t. You’re a genuine person, You look like sex. You are never boring. So maybe -”
“I am? I do?” Mista looks so proud at the compliments, cocking his head to the side as though checking the validity of Giorno's statement. He looks adorable and Giorno has to kiss him again.
This time Mista responds. He kisses Giorno as one might kiss a deity: reverent, reserved, with the barest pressure. It’s not enough amd Giorno bites his lip lightly to make that clear.
Mista’s hands come to cup his face and the older pulls away just enough to look Giorno in the eyes. “I want one of those forever long kisses. Like in the movies. I’ve waited long enough so let me give you a real kiss ok?” The blond nods and Mista closes the space between them.
Giorno remains perfectly still, letting Mista control the situation. He knows Mista can be tender but knowing somewhere in the back of your mind is very different from experiencing it. Mista kisses the corners of his mouth first before he truly kisses him. While Giorno had spent a fair amount of time looking at Mista he had never realized how rough and warm the boy was. His lips are chapped, his face stubbly even though he shaves every day, and his hair is coarse and curly and perfect to wrap fingers in.
Suddenly, the slow kiss changes as Mista pulls Giorno closer, deepening the kiss. He does not want to just be kissed Giorno decides, he will give as much as he takes. He stands on the tips of his toes, hands tightening their grip in Mista’s hair and the other moans into his mouth.
Giorno smiles into the kiss. Those sounds are his. He is responsible for them, no one else.
Mista’s hands are exploring now, wandering down Giorno’s back. One sliding over to palm his ass, the other holding him upright against Mista’s body. Giorno doesn’t think before he jumps, wrapping his legs around Mista and kissing him with the intent to bruise.
That pushes Mista back against the wall and he pulls away, trying to catch his breath. “You’re excited.”
“Shut up,” Giorno focuses attention on his neck while Mista tries to reposition himself to support the weight of the blond.
He finds a spot on Mista’s neck, near where his t-shirt begins to dip and makes the older boy whimper. He can feel Mista’s grip on his lessen but Giorno just tightens his legs, determined not to let go.
“Giorno?”
He hums in response, not moving his mouth from where he was staking a claim on the bit of collarbone he could reach.
“Giorno we need to - we need to stop.”
That got his attention. Giorno raised his head to look at Mista. His adams apple bobs as he swallows and kisses Giorno’s nose.
“We - well we can’t do anything here,” he says and Giorno understands his concern.
“Close the door.” Its a command.
“What-” Before he can ask Giorno has detached himself and crosses the room, closing the door with a soft click.
He walks back over to Mista and drops to his knees.
“You are a devil you know that.”
“I get that. A lot actually,” Giorno smiles up at him and leans forward, slowly keeping his eyes locked on Mista’s face to gauge the reaction. He wasn’t sure how far the other would be comfortable with him going.
Mista didn’t seem inclined to move. His eyes are wide and he is holding his breath, not daring to speak and ruin the moment but Giorno won’t do anything without permission.
“May I?”
“May you?” Mista spluttered, “am I dreaming? You should not be allowed to look like that. God Giorno, I had never imagined it like this. This is better. Youre --”
Giorno mouths at the bulge in Mista’s pants and the boy’s sentences trailed off into a moan. He wasn’t sure what was better, the noises made by Mista’s mouth or the fact he might have imagined something like this.
The sweatpants are held up by a string and to show off Giorno pulls the bow undone with his teeth. He uses his mouth to pull them down, delighting in the effect it has on the other.
Mista is breathing heavily and a hand has found its way into Giorno's hair, messing up the braid. He didn’t mind. He uses his hands to pull Mista’s boxers down- showing off could come later. Giorno’s stomach flips at the possibilities of ‘laters’.
“Keep talking.”
Mista lets out a shaky breath. “What’d ya want me to talk about?”
Giorno kisses his tip. “Tell me what you had imagined.” He will let that question rattle around Mista’s brain for a little while.
“I - I imagined you. I mean me asking you --” Giorno wraps his mouth around Mista’s cock and slowly begins to move, taking a little bit more in his mouth every time until he has all of Mista’s length.
He had worked away his gag reflex years ago, but it still took some practice to build up to Mista. The effort paid off though. Mista’s hand tightened around his hair and the noises he made just urged the blond on.
He had never had a particularly loud partner before but Giorno decided he loved it. Mista kept talking, “I didn’t know what to say but - oh god that’s your tongue -- maybe we would do dinner?”
One of Giorno’s hands reached up to massage his balls and the other gripped his hip, fingernails digging in.
“I - I thought about a candlelight dinner, you know like the movies and I would dress up - oh god --”
Giorno’s hand wasn’t enough to keep Mista’s hips in place and he gags. He doesn’t stop, pink lips firmly wrapped around Mista’s cock. This had been a long time coming and Giono was not the type of person to give up on his goals.
“You always look so good. I don’t know how you do it. But suits every day? Fucking business student. God you’re hot in a tie do you even know Giorno? I’d take you out to a restaurant that was classy enough for you. And then after dinner --”
Giorno takes his time while Mista speaks. He moves back slowly, slick suction hollowing his cheeks and his tongue busy on the underside of Mista’s cock. He repeats himself like that, up and down and up, wetter, faster, as if he was focused on this and nothing else. There was a scary kind of determination in Giorno.
“After dinner – yes – fuck, it’s –please —” Mista’s gone. His head falls back and hits the wall. “Giorno, I’m not gonna last much longer --”
He keeps his pace. Giorno's cheeks are hollowed, his jaw dropped in necessity. He cannot speak, but he gives a sort of hum, a hums that screams determination, letting Mista know how this is going to end.
Mista’s other hand holds the back of Giorno’s neck and in his hair, keeping him in place. His hips thrust of their own accord and Giorno relaxes, letting Mista take ownership of his mouth for the second time that night.
It doesn’t take long for Mista to come with Giorno’s name as a prayer on his lips. The boy swallows, and smiles up and the other. He leans his cheek into Mista’s hand, content.
“What about you?” Mista pulls his pants up and crotches next to the blond. Giorno just kisses him softly.
“Next time. I’m too exhausted from practice.”
“After a fancy dinner?”