young hot trouble // diggianini (ao3)
yesterday i saw the light. so today i wrote this
It started a long time ago, Enea supposes.
They were – what? Fourteen? Fifteen? - limbs too long, and Diggia’s teeth were still covered in scrap metal. He remembers the excitement, the blood running down to his dick at the thought of doing something forbidden. His heart beating in his ears when Diggia said he was sure he would last longer than him. And Enea was never one to back down from a challenge. “Let’s try, then.”
It was summer, and it was hot, and their naked thighs sticked together from the sweat on the little motorhome bed. Diggia had placed his phone on a pile of Enea’s school books that his father made him bring with him, but that he hadn’t opened for the whole weekend.
The video they chose showed a girl getting fucked from behind. They argued a good five minutes before settling on that one, discussing about fairness. For all Enea knew, Diggia could have chosen something he didn’t like on purpose, to win the bet.
As soon as the video started, Enea took himself out of his pants. He was already hard. He tried concentrating on the sounds the girl made, moving a hand up and down on his dick. She looked hot, and her tits were enormous, bouncing every time the man behind her fucked into her. Enea could feel Diggia moving, pressed against his shoulder, trembling. He started moving his hand faster. He couldn’t think.
At one point, Diggia threw his head back, hitting the wall behind. He started making small, little sounds, as if he was trying to gulp down his moans, and Enea felt the other boy’s breath in his ears, and their thighs and their shoulders and their arms pressing together, and he turned his head to look at Diggia, his throat and his open mouth and his chest. The head of his dick was red and wet, disappearing under the palm of his hand, following a desperate rhythm.
The sight made Enea feel hot inside, hot of shame and horniness and maybe something else also.
Enea came first, that time. The first time after that, it was Diggia who did.
It’s different, now. It’s been a long time since they have stopped pretending, stealing glances in the hope of seeing a fragment of the other’s body, of throat, of leg, of lips. But now that they are teammates again, after years and years, the air between them feels electric again, like it does before a storm, like it did in Enea’s motorhome, all those years ago.
Enea wins the first race of the season.
Diggia meets him in his motorhome, after the celebration, and Enea is still in his leathers, skin sticky with the prosecco he got sprayed with on the podium and still high on the win.
Diggia presses him against the wall, opens his leathers and licks a stripe on his abs, tongue flat against his skin. When they kiss Enea can taste himself, the prosecco and the sweat, on Diggia’s tongue. He can’t think anymore. He reaches down, clumsy, dragging down Diggia’s sweats, feeling the hot and familiar weight of his dick in his hand. Diggia moans, low, in his ear, like he always does, running his hands on Enea’s skin, taking his dick in his hand, stroking him.
Enea feels trapped, pressed against the wall like he is, but he likes it. Diggia keeps breathing hard in his ear, following the rhythm of the hand on his dick, an arm pressed against the wall near Enea’s head.
There’s no build up, when Enea is with Diggia. It’s just like – BAM, like an explosion. The blood pumps in his vein, fast, and he can feel it in his ears, he can feel his breaths in his brain, and nothing else, nothing else but Diggia and their bodies pressed together.
He lowers his head into the crook on Diggia’s neck, smelling him, his sweat, mouthing at the skin, sitcky-hot pleasure running up his spine. He keeps moving his hand, smearing Diggia’s precum on the head of his dick with his thumb, mouth full of his skin, and Diggia’s breath hitches, his throat spasming under Enea’s mouth. It’s just- it's-
Enea’s hips start moving, out of his control, and Diggia’s hands starts to lose rhythm, fast and desperate, while he moans. Enea feels stupid, stupid, and he reaches up to gulp down Diggia’s little whines, to eat him, breathing him in.
He can’t- he can’t-
Enea comes, breathing hard in Diggia’s mouth, collapsing against him, still moving his hand on Diggia’s dick. It doesn’t take long before he comes too, painting Enea’s abs and chest in white.
They stay like that for a bit, Enea pressed against the wall by Diggia’s weight, coming down from the orgasms, until Diggia takes his shirt off and cleans his hand on it, and then messily passes it on Enea’s chest, smearing the come around more than cleaning him.
The t-shirt gets thrown in some corner of the motorhome, without much care.
“Partita alla Play?” Diggia asks, eyes still half lidded from the orgasm, voice still limp, loose.
Enea nods, still trying to get his breathing under control.
“Partita alla Play.”
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I think one of the most insidious things cancel culture on the Left has done is spread this idea that by being friends with someone you cosign all of their beliefs and actions and if you don’t, you have to disown them.
When people get radicalized by TERFs, the Far right, etc, cutting them off is often proof to them that they’re doing something “right”. So at the very least don’t do it with the delusion you’re some how “keeping them accountable” or encouraging change because you’ll be sorely disappointed.
I’ve had several folks credit me with getting them out of bad paths by just being open to occasionally having conversations about tough topics, saying I don’t know when I didn’t know, and not cutting off all ties. Being able to deal in the grey, not be fragile in the face of tough questions, and not judge folks for struggling has gone a lot further than what I see most circles emphasize.
For all of the talk of “boundaries” floating around, very few people seem to get that boundaries apply to friendships too. And they aren’t demands that a person’s inner world conform to our desires, but rather about how we’ll be treated. If a person is generally treating you well, it’s worth considering leaving that line of communication open, but perhaps not invite them to spaces where you know they might cause harm, knowingly or otherwise.
Having strong boundaries is necessary to continue challenging friendships that wind up being a lifeline to folks who might otherwise ONLY have radical hate groups to socialize with. Not saying you HAVE to do this. But I’m saying - contrary to what cancel culture says - you have the option if it feels right.
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It's a shame since algorithms could be useful tools for life and art but unfortunately every commercially available one is built off data scraping and theft. Like imagine an artist with their own algorithm trained on only their art using it to provide lower price point commissions en masse to supplement their income between the more expensive self done one.
AND THAT'S THE FUCKING THING
It's just like Cryptocurrency! There are ways for these things to be both ethical AND functional!
But, unfortunately, we have too many Silicon Valley wills and shills who either have no notion of contingency plans or who are working as psy-ops to make these technologies look bad.
Because Crypto should have been an accepted method of payment in the face of marketplaces (particularly online marketplaces) deciding they should be the governing force of consumer lives.
What it has turned into is the smoldering, soggy remains of worthless monkey JPEGs.
Algorithmic Learning should have been based as a tool for creators and educators to make production easier. The notion of artists training software to replicate their coloring methods, line strokes, etc., to help out with large scale projects and productions. It should be a tool for writers who, upon trying to experiment with their style, to have a guide on how to combine their old with their new.
What it has turned into is marketplaces being glutted with Cronenberg's abominations of regurgitated text and 'remixed' images.
Also, just as an addendum, for all of the AI Bros out there who will insist that the adoption of AI is a choice, there is a crapload of them want to brute-force it onto people.
Including this fucking shill they just had do this seminar at my job-site.
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