tfln overflow

[harderdaddy]

Comments

stares at all my typos with dead eyes.

[papichulo]

Pretty immediately, Valentino's gaze falls on all the broken pieces of the vase scattered across the tile down below, his teeth clenching tight and his hands twisting around the railing. Truthfully - it's definitely an easily replaceable item, but if Angel thinks he can just waltz into the penthouse like he owns it and start trashing Valentino's things? Well, he's wrong.

Val's eyes narrow and follow Angel, and as he climbs closer to the top of the stairs, Valentino lets go of the railing and takes a few long, stalking strides to meet him right off the last step. Quickly, sharply, he darts his primary hands out toward him and grabs him by the front of his jacket, dragging him closer with little effort and hauling him over to the side so he can back him up into the railing.

He towers over him, pressed uncomfortably close. "That vase cost me more than you make in a fucking week, you brat."

It's maybe a little bit of an exaggeration. Likely, Valentino doesn't even remember how much he spent, because it was inconsequential at the time. He jostles Angel a little, just... for fun, and presses himself even closer. Angel's been here throwing a tantrum for less than a minute and Valentino's already half-hard over it. "The next one's coming out of your fucking paycheck."

I never notice <3

[harderdaddy]

It's exactly what Angel's been craving, and fuck- he hates what that says about him. He loves his friends. Is starting to like the person he can be with them. So why can't he let this side of himself go.

There's a challenging look in Angel's eye, not backing down or cowering like he does when it's a more one sided fight, even though Val clearly has the advantage. "Worth it," he hisses, glancing back over that railing and hating how the fear turns him on.

He tears at Val's shirt, grans the collar to try and forcibly tug the Overlord down into a biting kiss.

[papichulo]

Angel standing his ground, the blatant defiance, the fucking backtalk - all of it makes Valentino's blood run hot, a familiar mix of anger and arousal rushing through him as Angel hisses at him like his attitude has never earned him a sharp backhand before. Valentino's grip tightens in the front of his jacket, claws just starting to push through the material, his other hands curling around the railing on either side of him and pinning him into what very little space is left between them.

It probably wouldn't kill him, if Angel took a tumble over the edge and fell to the bottom floor. For a split second, Valentino imagines it in slow motion. He picture's Angel's eyes, mismatched and wide, hands outstretched and reaching toward the only thing that could maybe save him - the only thing that could ever save him - and finding nothing but open air. He doesn't fantasize about killing Angel - at least, not right now, he isn't - but about Angel needing him. Always.

Valentino's already leaning toward him a little bit, slowly and subtly trying to coax him into leaning backward, when Angel claws at him and grabs a hold of his shirt collar. He comes down easily, though he wasn't likely to resist anyway, considering this is exactly what he'd been looking for when he'd decided to start a fight for fun, and when his mouth meets Angel's it's with enough force and enthusiasm that Val's teeth click against his for a second before he immediately tries pushing his tongue past them.

His hands on the railing release and blindly find and settle on Angel's body, broad palms fitting around his ribcage and dragging down to his hips so he can pull their bodies flush, his erection pressing against Angel's lower stomach.

[harderdaddy]

There's something to be said for the difference between a real fight, and Val just knocking him around to remind him of his place. It feels like more and more Val's just looking for the former from him. And Angel's almost forgotten how good it feels to bite back. It'll all probably end the same, but maybe Angel won't come out of it hating himself quite so much. Or maybe just for different reasons.

Val crowds him back, and the railing fucking digs into his back, but that very present danger doesn't register. His lips part, fighting for control of the kiss, and trying to drink down that poison greedily. There's a low groan in his throat at the feel of that hardness, and he abruptly tries to push Val off. It's not nearly his full strength, clearly trying to up the tension without actually 'escaping'.

"Heh- hh- you're so fuckin' easy~"

[papichulo]

Valentino is not one to be easily moved by anyone, but he's invested enough in upping the animosity that he allows Angel to shove him around a little. He doesn't go far, because there isn't enough force under Angel's palms to move him very significantly - and he knows Angel's strength, so he imagines that's intentional - but he shifts back enough that there's room to breathe, enough that he's forced to loosen his hold on the front of Angel's jacket, the hands framing his hips lifting and leaving too, claws dragging lightly as they go.

Standing there for a second or two, Val just stares at Angel, his eyes narrowed and his gaze almost piercing. And then - he starts to laugh, but it's a dark sound, lacking joy and mirth.

"I'm easy?" he shoots back, and suddenly, he stalks forward again, collapsing the space between them again and backing Angel right back into that railing behind him. One of his primary hands moves quick, long fingers snapping tight around Angel's throat, not enough to choke but enough to make his breathing thin as he leans in close, slotting a thigh between Angel's and pressing up.

"Fuck you," he mocks, echoing Angel's earlier text in a semi-childish tone. "Send the car," he adds, laughing again, though there's more amusement in this one, dark satisfaction. The way he flicks his tongue out is almost snake-like, teasing over Angel's mouth. "I didn't even have to try, and you came running like a bitch. If you want to talk about easy, baby..."

[harderdaddy]

There's a grimace, and Angel's fucking pinned against the railing again, very nearly making Val's fantasy come true all on his own as he tries to escape that hold the only way left to him. His back bows as he tries to arch away, his breath shuddering weakly.

It's easy to feel Angel's just as fucking hard as Val, whatever he might pretend, and his cheeks burn with bitter shame. Sharp teeth grit together with a huff, trying to wrench Val's hands away from his throat- another show of resistance more than a real effort to get away, egging the Overlord on like he wants him to handle Angel rough.

"Allllll those souls and it's still me ya need ta set ya right, Val," he mocks right back.

[papichulo]

"Oh, don't fucking flatter yourself," Valentino shoots back, his grip around Angel's neck tightening just a little bit more, fingertips pressing hard against the sides of his throat, oddly conscious of not crushing Angel's windpipe in a way he likely wouldn't be if he was actually, genuinely angry. They are, after all, just playing - to Valentino, at least.

He shoves his thigh higher, forces Angel to grind against him, his own erection pressing hard into his hip.

"You think you're the only one that got that text?" He gives Angel's throat one more quick squeeze, and then releases him to let him breathe, petting his long fingers down the front of his neck. His secondary hands find Angel's hips, holding him close and fast, pressure under his palms encouraging him to use his leg to seek his own pleasure while he laughs. "Oh, no, baby. You were just the first one who bit."

Whether that's true or not - that he sent the same text to all of his whores, that Angel was the first one to take the bait - is hard to say. Valentino lies just as often as he tells the truth, but he seems to be finding entertainment in attempting to step on Angel's confidence either way. It's all a game to him.

[harderdaddy]

Just playing.

There's a whimper as that grip tightens, but it's true. They must be playing, or Angel wouldn't have the air to manage that much. Did Angel always get off to this sort of play, or is it just an adaptative things? Either way, there's shame weighing down as Angel plays right along, grinding against Val's leg, while a lower hand starts to fondle that hardness at his hip.

His eyes narrow, hating the heat he can feel colouring his face beneath his fur. "...you have cars waitin' for all of 'em too?" he counters, "Vox not in the mood for your shit tonight?"

[papichulo]

The sigh Valentino exhales is just on the cusp of being a growl as Angel finally acknowledges his own arousal with fumbling fingers, hips twitching somewhat involuntarily under his soft, wandering hand in a search for a little more friction. Unlike Angel, there's no shame in it for Val, just excitement. Entertainment, a low-humming thrill buried under every barb thrown back and forth.

Mentioning Vox, though, seems to stir something new, though. Val's expression shifts minutely, a tightness in his jaw there and gone in a blink. He drags his claws through the soft chest fluff, purposely making sure they sink through to the skin - not enough to break it, just enough to be felt.

"We have plans later," Valentino supplies, casual and easy. Again, hard to tell if that's the truth or if he's just trying to snuff out Angel's attempt at a dig. His secondary hands grip at Angel's hips a little tighter, and then suddenly he drags him away from the railing and turns him and himself around on his heel. "Why, would you like him to join us?"

Something in his tone sounds a little darker, but also a little excited. Valentino 's hands shove hard at Angel's waist, pushing him back and off, but he stalks right after him. "Careful, Angie. Jealousy makes you so fucking ugly."

[harderdaddy]

Hissing, there's a swell of pride at getting even that brief rise of out him, but just as quick it's turned back on him.

Angel half stumbles, feet working fast to back him up, and thankfully his mind still seems to remember the layout without looking. That barb cuts deeper than he's like, and he tells himself its vanity that sparks his anger and not that he is jealous. Nothing to be jealous of. Vox can have him.

"Good thing I couldn't care less," he says, claws snagging in a painting as tries to keep some distance between them, tearing the canvas with a loud, long rip.