Hearing him say that goes straight to his cock and Angelo groans, the sound muffled against Alastor's neck. He licks the palm of his free hand and gives himself a few arbitrary strokes, mostly out of habit, enjoying the luxury of not having to waste time prepping him as he lines himself up and pushes inside him with a sharp thrust of his hips. It makes his breath hitch, and he pauses for a second just to get comfortable, shifting his hand to the cabinet for something to hold onto, and then he fucks into him, hard, the first snap of his hips making his forgotten glass of brandy skid backwards on the surface, clinking when it hits the wall. He doesn't waste time finding a clockwork pace, steady and hard and full with each thrust, breathing in time against the back of his neck.