Balls of Blue in '62

1962. The air is hot and heavy-- a typical day in mid-summer New York City. A man walks down the street, two heavy-set men trailing behind him at a distance just a bit further than friends would walk. Thin but muscular, the man hides clever eyes underneath his dark hair. He looks around, glancing over his shoulder, scanning the streets. Despite his obvious paranoia, he keeps a smile on his face. He skips up the steps of Beachwood Estates, a local penthouse apartment complex. He raps on the heavy oak door twice - he knows it's oak. Afterall, he's had his hands on more wood than he can count.

An old woman answers the door. He can tell by her distinctly angular brows that she is part of the family. "Buona notte, Nonna Francesca," he says. "May I speak with Lazzaro?"

Francesca narrows her eyes at him, sizing him and his companions up. "What do you want from him?" she asks in a thick Sicilian accent.

"Just an answer to a question."

"Why does there need to be three of you to ask a question?"

"Every question has three parts," the man says with a grin. "The subject, the verb, and the compliment. Well, the Don is the subject, these are the compliments."

"And what is the verb?" she asks skeptically.

The man shrugs. "That all depends on what Lazzaro wants from me."

"I'm too old for this." says the woman, opening the door wide. "Go on ahead, but your friends will have to stay in the main room."

"They're not my friends," says the man quickly. "If you could, can you tell Lazzaro that Loczek is here to see him?"

Francesca rolls her eyes, but obliges. The three men file into the spacious room. Despite the unassuming exterior, the inside of Beechwood Estates is lavish, decorated with red sofas and gold trim. The two men with Loczek sit down awkwardly, like they have something bulky in their jackets and were not planning on relaxing that evening.

Francesca beckoned for Loczek to follow her up the spiral staircase. As he turned and was about to follow, one of the men tugged on his arm. "Will you be okay in there?" he asked gruffly. Not out of concern for Loczek, but out of concern for Loczek's wallet.

"Believe me," Loczek replied. "Gimme an hour with this guy and all of us will get...more than satisfactory results."

"See you in an hour from now, on the dot."

With that, Loczek headed up the stairs, trailing behind the impatient Fancesca. The goons downstairs kept their eyes on the clock.

At the top of the staircase was an imposing door, this one made out of mahogany. Francesca left without a word, leaving Loczek standing alone. He turned the golden knob and the door swung open silently. The Don was waiting for him.

Tall, with wide set shoulders and a dark Italian tan, the Don sat quietly behind a birch desk. He pushed back his slick black hair and looked up, his deep brown eyes burning with a ruthless fire.

"You should have knocked. Most people knock." He said with a growl.

"Well. I'm not most people." Loczek said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

"By all accounts, you are. My files list you as one Mr. Antionio Loczek, a lowlife drug dealer from the Bronx. Now, I know we have had business in the past," his eyes flicker, betraying a hint of...yearning? Or perhaps that was Loczek's wishful thinking. "-but that means nothing now. Come, sit down." He gestured to a pine chair, noticeably less grand than the one he was currently sitting in. He moved only his hand, muscles rippling under his tight, expertly tailored black suit. Loczek sat. There was really nothing else he could do. He was powerless to resist the commands of the Don.

"Good morning, sir. How are you doing?" Loczek said, his smile unchanged.

"Cut the small talk. We both know why you're here."

Loczek looked up, a light twinkling in his eye. "Are you sure about that...sir?"

"Yes." The Don said, gruffly. "You want to keep selling my Family drugs." He leaned forward, piercing dark eyes staring directly into Loczek's bright blue ones. His tightly fitted shirt drooped down a bit, exposing the tip of his collarbone and the scar that remained of what must have been a grievous wound. Antonio caught a wiff of sweat and musk, mostly hidden under the scent of Lazzaro's cologne. Ah yes, Irish Spring.

"Drugs? No no no, not so crass," Antonio said, looking taken aback. "I want to sell you investments. Their forms don't matter. All that matters is, you can sell what I bring you and turn a profit."

"Son," began Lazzaro, "Let me give it to you straight." He laid a heavy hand on Loczek's shoulder, in a move that was probably meant to be paternal, but ended up just feeling controlling. "We run a... business. Now, in the business world, we are going through what many call downsizing. We're cutting our assets, reducing our partners, the whole shebang. Anything we can do, we will. The drugs you have sold our Family no longer can cut it. I'm afraid we'll need to end our... partnership."

"On the contrary," whispered Loczek. "I believe our partnership has only just begun." He looked deep into Lazzaro's dark eyes. Lazzaro held his gaze for a second, then broke away, averting his eyes. The Don let out a breath. Frustration, perhaps? But of what kind?

"You've interrupted my evening, Loczek." said Lazzaro, mild annoyance cutting into his voice. "I had plans. Nonna Francesca made a lovely dinner for me. Now, if you don't have any real reason for me to continue doing business with you, I suggest you take your leave."

Loczek sighed, his face falling, then leaned forward in his chair. His face was only inches from the Don's, but Lazzaro did not falter. The only sign of hesitation was in his eyes, which flickered down the Don's shirt. Loczek looked up, then smirked again.

"Tell me where you got that scar, Lazzaro," he murmured.

Lazzaro cocked one eyebrow. He knew a common business practice was to make the opponent uncomfortable; he would not fall for it. On the contrary, he was more comfortable in these situations than anywhere else.

"A former lover," he finally replied.

Loczek blew out in a thin whistle, the air brushing against Lazzaro's face. His breath was sweet, with a trace of mint. "What did you do to make her go so crazy?"

Lazzaro tilted his head, then bit his lip. If Loczek was trying to make him uncomfortable, then he'd just have to return the favor. He wanted to show Loczek what he was made of.

"Her?" He whispered, tan lips puckering around the word. A chill ran down Loczek's spine.

"Oh." Loczek breathed. "My mistake. I didn't take you for... that kind of man."

"You have no idea what kind of man I am." growled Lazzaro.

Loczek rested a hand on the desk. "And you have no idea what kind of man I can be."

"I'll drink to that." The Don opened his desk drawer, pulling out a clear glass bottle of amber-tinted bourbon. He set it on the desk with a thud. "I hope you're the type of man that can handle his... hard spirits."

Loczek winked. "I can handle anything you've got."

The Don lunged across the desk, grabbing Loczek by his silken tie. "Only fags wear silk," he hissed into Loczek's ear.

"It takes one to know one, sir," Loczek gasped, not breaking eye contact.

Lazzaro growled, then kissed Loczek roughly on the lips. His tongue penetrated through, probing the inside of Loczek's mouth. Loczek moaned, then grabbed the Don's luxurious hair tightly. Lazzaro returned the favor, bringing his other hand deep into Loczek's curly locks. He pulled Loczek's head close, half-dragging him across the desk.

"Show me how badly you want this deal." Lazzaro whispered gruffly.

"I'd do anything for it, sir." Loczek slid across the desk, planting himself securely in Lazzaro's lap. He could feel Lazzaro's throbbing erection even through both of their pants.

"I can tell you want this deal too." Loczek whispered, guiding his hand down Lazzaro's shirt.

Lazzaro let out a faint gasp as Loczek's hand grazed the tip of his cock. "I want more than just a deal."

Loczek pulled his hand away, and grinned cheekily. "You of all people should know patience."

Lazzaro groaned, then bucked his hips forward, grinding against Loczek's thigh. Loczek hid his desperation well, and reached for the bottle of bourbon. He took a long swig, his throat pulsing as he drank. Tilting the bottle so that it was against Lazzaro's lips, he observed with pleasure as the Don drank greedily. "Thirsty, sir?" he asked quizzically.

Lazzaro smirked, the first smile Loczek had seen on his face. "You have no idea how thirsty I've been."

Loczek leaned in, blowing into Lazzaro's ear. The smell of butterscotch and alcohol wafted into the Don's nose. The heady smell made it hard to think straight. God, he wanted to drink straight from Loczek's lips. The man alone was intoxicating enough.

"I guess I'll just have to... satisfy your cravings." Loczek whispered. The air from his breath carried itself deep within Lazzaro's ear, bringing chills throughout his entire body, making him weak. As Loczek murmured, his tongue flickered out, just barely brushing against Lazzaro's earlobe. Lazzaro let out an involuntary moan. He wasn't used to being controlled like this. What was he thinking about earlier? The art of the deal, make your opponent uncomfortable? Sure, he wasn't comfortable with getting dominated like this typically, but Jesus Christ, it just felt so good.

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard." Lazzaro begged. Loczek looked at Lazzaro, desiring clouding his icy eyes. He was so ready to oblige.

But Lazzaro shoved him away, off of his lap. Loczek flipped over the desk and ended up in a crumpled heap against the floor. Lazzaro swiftly stood up, one hand tucking his erection away.

"We can't do this, Loczek. If the mafia finds out, we'll both be killed. We'll be swimming with the fishes before we can even get out of the city." Lazzaro looked pained to say it, but Loczek knew he was telling the truth. In the sixties, people would rather send a man into outer space than let him fall in love with another man.

"But sir!" Loczek whimpered, his eyes pleading with the older man. "I need you!" His chest heaved, both with emotion and lust.

"You're right, I just can't fucking resist." With a few strides, Lazzaro crossed the room and picked Loczek up by his collar. He slammed him into the wall. Loczek briefly realized that the wall was made of chestnut before his thoughts became a blur as Lazzaro's rough hand explored the outside of his jeans. He let out a gasp and thrust his hips harder into Lazzaro's hand, grinding greedily. He loved the pressure, the gentle fingers scraping against the tip of his visible erection.

"Now who can't resist?" teased Lazzaro, his free hand deftly unbuckling Loczek's belt.

Suddenly, they heard a noise. Hard soles, thudding up the stairs. "Boss?" someone called. It was one of Loczek's companions.

Loczek swore and did his best to buckle his belt with shaking hands. Lazzaro combed through his mussed hair until it looked acceptably smooth. He opened the door and politely greeted the large man standing outside.

"Is everything alright in here?" the man asked, leaning around Lazzaro to gaze into the office. "Loczek?"

"We're just fine," Loczek stated, still panting slightly. "Business can be a little...rough at times. Dealing with the Mafia is different than dealing with some junkie who hasn't paid his debt. Give us another hour."

"Negotiations are being made," said Lazzaro. "One more hour. Do not interrupt us again."

The man narrowed his eyes slightly at Lazzaro, then nodded once and turned to go. He could hear the lock clicking in the door behind him.

Lazzaro turned from the door to face a nervous-looking Loczek. "That was too fucking close," he barked. "But...we do have another hour."

Lozcek caught his breath, then turned and winked. "I believe you were in the process of... unbuttoning my trousers?" He grinned.

Lazzaro crossed the room. His face was now inches from Lozcek's. "Son, let me give it to you straight. What we are about to do is dangerous activity. We have already been caught once, and if it happens again, I can guarantee that no amount of smooth talking will get us out of it. But, you're just so damn cute." He tenderly kissed Loczek on the lips. Loczek stared deep into the Mafia boss's eyes and bit his lip. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind them. Flushed face, half-closed blue eyes, muscles straining against themselves. God, he was out of control. And that was just how Lazzaro liked it.

Lazzaro roughly grabbed Loczek's hair with one hand, the other hand ripping off Loczek's belt. At the same time, Loczek's hands swifty unbuttoned the older man's tailored suit, caressing the ripped chest of Lazzaro.

"God, sir, I want you so badly." Loczek moaned. Lazzaro had finished tearing off the drug dealer's belt, and his hands now pulled down the younger man's trousers. Loczek's erection sprung into the air. It wasn't the biggest Lazzaro had ever seen, but it was pretty damn close. His rough hands moved up Loczek's thigh as the drug dealer let out a whimper. A singular finger circled the shaft, the rest of the hand tenderly wrapping around the ballsack of Loczek. Loczek moaned.

"Please stroke me, sir. I need you." His eyes beckoned, running across the creviced chest of the Mafia boss. He bit his lip to stop it from mouthing fuck, fuck, fuck over and over again. The Don's hand moved up, roughly stroking Loczek's cock. Locking eyes with the younger man, Lazzaro moved his hand away from the shaft as Loczek let out another moan.

"Please keep going, sir!" Loczek begged.

"Trust me, this isn't my first rodeo. I'm going to make it feel even better." The Don kept looking into Loczek's eyes as he moved his hand up to his mouth, his tongue flickering across the surface of his own palm. Loczek could feel his hot breath across the inches dividing them, and the tugging against his hair drove him wild. The Don moved his hand back down, a singular strand of amber spit connecting his hand to his mouth. Loczek's head jerked backwards and all of his muscles flexed as Lazzaro began stroking him again. The saliva improved the sensation tenfold, allowing Lazzaro to easily glide his hand over the bumps and ridges of Loczek's cock. He gradually increased the frequency of his stroking, causing Loczek to have to fight against the urge to let out a cry of pleasure. Loczek's hands fumbled with Lazzaro's shirt, and he quickly flung it off of him onto the ground. Lazzaro leaned in and ran his tongue across the inside of Loczek's ear.

"I'm going to make you mine." He growled deeply.

Loczek couldn't resist anymore, and let out a tender moan. His fingers clawed at Lazzaro's back, only adding to the scratches and scars.

"Yes, sir, do whatever you want with me!" He couldn't control himself. He felt a deep pleasure running through his balls, and his penis twitched and twinged, every movement like a shock to his entire system. He bucked his cock deeper into the hand of the dominant man, feeling it slide to the very base of his cock. The Don tightened his grip, milking his cock quickly and efficiently. Loczek knew he wouldn't last much longer.

With a quick movement, Loczek lunged downward, his rod sliding out of Lazzaro's hand with a jolt of pleasure. His hands flew down from Lazzaro's back to Lazzaro's pants, sliding them off in one smooth motion. The Don's cock whipped out into the humid air. It was huge, much larger than Loczek's.

"Mamma Mia." Loczek laughed, a smirk reappearing on his previously lustful face.

"Don't patronize me," Lazzaro growled, one large hand pushing Loczek to his knees.

Loczek hadn't been able to practice much when it came to sucking cock, but he knew what he liked when someone else did it to him. Guided by Lazzaro's hand on the back of his head, he did his best to fit the Don's entire throbbing erection in his mouth. His pale hands traced their way up Lazzaro's dark thighs, the fingernails leaving thin scratches. He closed his mouth fully around the head of the enormous penis, running his tongue across the underside. He pulled it out of his mouth slowly, relishing the way the older man shuddered. His hands had now reached Lazzaro's ass, and they gripped hard, feeling the tight muscles underneath. Loczek rocked the Don's hips back and forth, inviting him to thrust as deep as he wanted. Lazzaro eagerly complied, straining to go as far as he could. Loczek gagged as the member slid its way down his neck. He coughed twice, rivulets of drool running down his chin. Lazzaro could see his adam's apple pulse with every bob.

"God, you feel so good," moaned the Don, relishing the tingling feeling of Loczek's lips locked around his shaft. He sucked in his lip, his typically stoic face melting into a look of pleasure. His fingers dug into Loczek's curly brown hair harder, pulling the younger man's face up to look at him. Loczek smirked, his mouth half open. He ran his tongue out of his mouth and up the shaft, ending in a kiss on the tip. Lazzaro let out a growl and shoved Loczek down onto the rod once more, letting out a deep murmur of delight as he did so.

"Is this how you like it, sir?" Loczek said around the Don's cock. His voice was muffled and wet, but it got the point across.

"Oh, yes, that is more than satisfactory." The Don groaned. "Oh Loczek, you do sure know how to treat a man right."

"Call me Antonio, sir. My family name should have nothing to do with this... dirty business."

The Don looked down at him, breathing hard. "Antonio, this isn't business at all." He let out a gasp, then recomposed himself. "It's pleasure."

Antonio paused, smiled, then doubled down even faster than before. The Don stumbled around and placed his back against the wall. The deep feeling within his balls throbbed with every bob of Antonio Loczek's head; it was more than he could control. He pushed back Loczek's curly hair, gazing deep into the submissive man's eyes. The bright blue light had turned into blazing pinpricks of fire, the lids half-closed with lust. Lazzaro felt himself being drawn into those magnetic eyes, looking deeper into Antonio's soul. The pulsing sensations in his testicles rose up, flooding the base of his cock. The feeling was wild, reckless, untamed. He couldn't hold it back.

"Antonio, I'm..." he slurred, falling over his words, "I'm going to..."

"Not yet." Antonio pulled the cock out of his mouth, leaving it hanging in the open air. Lazzaro let out a gasp and slumped to the floor, the tingling feeling quickly receding. "We haven't gotten to the main event."

Lazzaro pushed himself up, running a hand nervously through his hair. He was embarrassed by the lack of control that he had displayed; he had never acted like that before. It was time for him to regain the power here.

Antonio was still on his knees. He glanced at his watch. "We have another forty minutes," he said, looking up at Lazzaro. "We can still do...more."

Lazzaro needed no further prompting. Grabbing Antonio by the collar, he slammed him onto the birch desk, flipping him around so that he was facing the door. Keeping him pinned down by the back of the neck, he whispered in his ear, "My turn, Antonio. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk out of this room straight."

Antonio shuddered, then replied cockily, "Lazzaro, I thought we'd quite established that I don't do anything straight."

Lazzaro responded by slapping Antonio's ass, leaving a clear, bright-red handprint. "Shut up, slut."

Antonio could tell that Lazzaro had appreciated the joke, but recognized that he should not have been joking around during a Mafia business meeting.

Lazzaro spread Antonio's cheeks with one hand and balanced his cock between them. He began to push it in, but Antonio interrupted him.

"Sir, what about lube?"

Lazzaro paused, his mind blanking. He didn't even keep condoms in his meeting room, let alone sexual lubricant. His mind raced, searching for a solution. What was on his desk? He remembered that Nonna Francesca had left a bottle of olive oil, along with some balsamic vinaigrette for him to dip bread in. Picking up the olive oil, Lazzaro turned around, a devilish smirk on his rough face.