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After their bloody encounter with Ghiaccio and his near invincible stand, White Album, Giorno and Mista found themselves alone for a while. The two hadn't gotten privacy like this ever since departing on the mission assigned by the boss, and Giorno had been able to convince Mista that the privacy was enough to unwind for a little while. Santa Lucia station was completely quiet, and the two had came across a bench by a tree-adorned wall that seemed fit for a bit of well-earned relaxation.
Mista's pants were at his mid-thighs, and he was looking down at Giorno with a smirk on his face. It had been a pretty long time since he'd last gotten head, and he was more than glad to have someone like Giorno reset that cycle. Strong-willed and intelligent, Mista admired Giorno's drive and maturity, and saw him in the same light as he did Bucciarati; a capable, courageous leader. And here he was, sucking him off under the early morning twilight. Giorno was shyly tonguing the tip of Mista's dick, his hand wrapped around the shaft. Mista could tell from his lack of confidence that Giorno probably didn't have much experience, which he found cute.
"Mm, Giorno..." The gunslinger sighed contently. Mista ran his fingers through Giorno's hair, being careful not to mess up his complicated hairstyle. Mista moaned softly as Giorno took his member further down his throat, adopting a forceless grip on his blonde locks. Mista took his lack of experience into consideration and let Giorno go at his own slow and steady pace, inviting him to speed up with a soft push against the back of his head.
"You're really good at this, Giorno," Mista said, staring at Giorno with a love-drunk gaze. Giorno started to fasten his pace, trying to take in all of Mista's length. Mista's breath began to shorten, the feeling of his tip hitting the back of Giorno's throat setting off fireworks in his mind. "Ah... D-Don't stop..." Mista breathed out, drinking in the sight of Giorno's pretty lips stretched around his dick. Mista let his eyes fall shut as he subtly bucked his hips into Giorno's mouth.
~
"Bucciarati! I'm picking up two signals... It doesn't look like there's anyone else..." Narancia said, eye focused on his stand's radar. The motorboat he was on gently drifted through the calm waters of the Venice canal.
"Proceed, but carefully. I'm assuming it's Mista and Giorno. I'm sure they're bored out of their minds waiting for us since nothing's happening." Bucciarati replied. Just then, Narancia faintly heard Mista's voice. He called back his stand and looked up, spotting his two colleagues.
"Oh, there they are! Hey, Mista! Gio-" The words came to an abrupt halt in Narancia's throat, and he found himself frozen in place when he realized the sight he was seeing. Mista was sprawled out on a bench, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw hung wide. He had a grip on Giorno's arm and was squirming under him. Giorno was knelt beside him, obstructing Narancia's view- thankfully.
"B-Be gentler, damn it..." Mista said, his voice high-pitched and at a high enough volume for Narancia to unfortunately hear him perfectly. Mista was breathing like he'd ran a marathon, his words indistinct and his face flushed a hot pink. Mista let out a yelp, his moans and groans of desperation compelling Narancia to look away and pretend to not have seen what he just did.
"Well? Did you see them?" Bucciarati asked him.
"Huh? No- I- Uh- W-What! There's something in my eye! I can't see! I can't see them clearly!" Narancia rubbed the nonexistent dust out of his eyes as he tried to ignore the noises he could still hear.
"F-Fuck... Giorno s-slow down, damn it..." Mista groaned, biting down on his bottom lip. Giorno was practically fucking his throat on Mista's dick, pushing the gunslinger well over the edge. It wasn't long until Mista hit his limit, his much-needed release sending heavy waves of dopamine to his brain. Mista's back arched involuntarily as Giorno swallowed around his dick, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to form in the corners of his blown-out eyes. Giorno pulled off of him, fixing his hair as Mista's breathing normalized. Mista pulled his pants back up to his hips, leaning over to plant a kiss against Giorno's swollen lips. Though short-lived, it was passionate and sweet.
"Now, where are the others?" Giorno thought out loud, turning his attention to the canal.