Open post.

[omertae]

I got gas in the tank
I got money in the bank
I got news for you, baby,
You're looking at the man ☞

Open post.

text, action, pic prompts, whatever, do what u want i'm not ur mom

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[omertae]

There's a long pause where Angelo doesn't say a goddamn thing, just lets the low sound of Alastor's voice tingle its way through him like radio static. And then all at once he bats a hand in Alastor's direction, sitting up. "Starting to make me feel like you only came over here to practice your spiel on me, amore."

[likenemesis]

Alastor pretends to look hurt, as he straightens up again but doesn't move away from the couch. "I came to take your mind off of things for a little while. Don't tell me you're dismissing me already."

[omertae]

"Dismissing, that's a strong word. Why don't we we talk about somethin' else, huh?" This fucking candle. Angelo swings his legs off the couch and lurches up to blow it out, immediately plunging them both into darkness as he pinches the wick between finger and thumb and twists it to squeeze out the ember. In the dark, now, he looks over his shoulder at Alastor, tilting his head to one side. "You ever get bored?"

[likenemesis]

Alastor doesn't approach him, interested as he is in the kinds of things Angelo does when he feels like moving. He leans against the couch, not quite sitting, resting a hand against the back. "Sure. Who doesn't get bored sometimes?"

[omertae]

"You noticed you never answer my questions properly?" What he means to say is, that's not what he meant, not really. It was a specific question phrased vaguely, but of course it can't be Angelo's fault that Alastor didn't answer it the way he wanted. He stalks across the room, going from fluffy rug to cold tile, aiming for the ornate black wooden cabinet which holds a vintage brandy in a decanter and a collection of matching glasses, as well as a pack of cigarettes he'd tossed on there when he got in. He sticks a cigarette between his teeth, unlit, and talks around it out of the corner of his mouth as he's pouring them both a drink. "You ever get bored of doin' the same thing with different people over and over?"

[likenemesis]

"No."

There; that's a proper answer, isn't it? There's even a touch of vehemence in Alastor's voice, a fierce gleam in his eyes that Angelo can't see. He pushes away from the couch, crosses the room to stand by Angelo's side, and plucks the unlit cigarette delicately from Angelo's lips, sticking it between his own. With a slow inhale, the red glow of embers appears at the opposite end, a little tendril of smoke drifting up, and then a plume of smoke from Alastor's mouth in the darkness.

"There's nothing in the world more liberating than using your greatest strengths, for the things you desire most. Sometimes it's business... sometimes it's pleasure. Occasionally..." he takes the cigarette from his lips, and replaces it between Angelo's. "Someone especially interesting comes along."

[omertae]

Angelo can't help staring. Maybe it's that there's only one light source in the room, now, the cherry at the end of the cigarette, but he's not some moth dancing haplessly around a flame and not knowing why. He knows why.

His lips part a little just to accept the cigarette, and as he pulls in a breath and feels the drag of smoke at the back of his throat, Angelo wonders for a moment what the harm would be. Power is power is power, doesn't matter where it comes from; it just matters that you hold onto it. It just matters that you take the opportunities you're given.

Hm. The corners of his mouth pull down a little, and he pinches the cigarette between his finger and thumb to take it out and blow out a smoky breath. "What am I? Business or pleasure? Be honest."

[likenemesis]

The audacity of Angelo demanding honesty from him might put a less experienced demon on edge, but Alastor simply finds it charming. Maybe that's part of the answer in itself. He smiles.

"Can't it be both?" He leans against the cabinet's counter, still watching Angelo. The glow of the cigarette embers catches in his eyes. "A little more business could mean a lot more pleasure."

[omertae]

Both is a wrong answer in Angelo's book, unless he's the one saying it. He's not, so his jaw hardens a little, a muscle jumping. But abruptly, almost out of nowhere, he smiles, practically cheery with it, and uses his free hand to pat Alastor's cheek with the flat of his palm. "See, that's what I like about you. Real persistent." His hand lingers, sliding to the back of Alastor's neck, his grip hardening just a little as he steps right into his space, tipping forward so their foreheads touch. "But I'd appreciate it if you changed your tune." This kind of schtick might have terrified someone else, but he knows Alastor will just find it amusing, so he lets go, tapping some ash from the end of his cigarette and then lifting up his glass for a drink. "Pretty please."

[likenemesis]

That gleam in his eyes flares like a spark, the meaning of which is entirely up for interpretation since he doesn't actually react in any real way to Angelo manhandling like that. Just watches him, with a smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth, his eyes brighter in the darkness than they were before.

"Which one would you rather be, Angel?"

[omertae]

"Pleasure," he says immediately, without even pausing to think about it. He does his thinking after and decides that he would've said the same thing either way. "Always pleasure."

[likenemesis]

"Whose pleasure?" Alastor reaches out and takes the second glass, without lifting it, and in doing so brings himself into Angelo's space again. "Mine, or yours?"

[omertae]

Can't it be both? he almost says, but doesn't. He knows what that means for Alastor. "Mine," he says instead.

[likenemesis]

"Mmm, you see, that's what I don't think you understand."

He takes a long sip of his own drink, licking his lower lip for the taste of liquor when he lowers the glass. Once again his voice lowers like he's sharing a secret.

"There are plenty of ways I could please you. Simple, easy, fleeting. That's just pleasure, and believe me, I think about it plenty. I could fuck you... within an inch of your life." His tongue darts out again, but he doesn't look away from Angelo's eyes in the darkness. "Or you could fuck me. Show me what the true Salucci heir can do."

Alastor finishes the drink in one swallow and sets the glass down with a heavy sound, before he reaches out in the scant space between them to drag his fingers down the front of Angelo's loose shirt. They find the waistband of his boxers through the fabric and hook in, bunching it, not quite pulling, but his knuckles slide in very low before his hand goes still.

"But you never think so small. Imagine my power at your fingertips, whenever you wanted. Imagine what I could do for you. What we could do to each other -- and no one would ever know about the demon in your bed."

[omertae]

It's tantalising, for a minute. While Alastor's talking, before he's finished his drink, while he's touching him. Angelo is hypnotised, and he knows he is, and he likes it. And then Alastor asks him to imagine and he almost rolls his eyes. He restrains himself, but just barely, gusting out a heavy breath through his nose. Times like these, he can't tell if he likes Alastor or just tolerates him.

It's not a thought to dissect right now, he knows, especially when Alastor is touching him the way he is. "Imagine if you talked less," he mutters back, his hand moving to the back of his neck again, pushing a little with the pads of his fingers. "Maybe you'd be perfect." And he closes the gap between them to kiss him, rough, leaving his glass still half-full on the cabinet.

[likenemesis]

Alastor growls, the sound crushed between them by the kiss that he meets just as harshly, a sound of exasperation and anticipation at the same time. Yes, he's persistent. The moment that he's waiting for, when Angelo will finally give in, practically makes his mouth water. But that doesn't mean he isn't nearly as greedy for moments like this.

He tangles a hand in Angelo's hair, gripping hard, kissing him harder, and releases the bundle of shirt and boxers so he can grab Angelo by the ass instead and drag him in, arching them shamelessly against each other. Alastor would have ripped Angelo's shirt open already if he didn't think that doing so would stop Angelo dead out of pure rage, and he doesn't have the patience to deal with buttons yet. So he settles for this, for now.

[omertae]

Alastor's right to think that — there's nothing that turns him off faster than the sound of torn buttons scattering all over the floor. Angelo's grip tightens on the back of his neck again, sharp, his fingers digging in, while his other hand feels around a little blindly, hooking two fingers in the waistband of his pants and sliding around to find the button. He hasn't been thinking about this exactly, just something close enough; if Alastor hadn't showed up here he would have gone out looking for it sooner rather than later, so he's greedy with his touches, shifting the angle of his fingers so he can twist his jeans open, deepening that kiss all the while, his other hand pressing up into his hair and making a tight fist.

[likenemesis]

The kiss is filthy in no time at all, which is more than fine with him, and if Angelo is going to start manhandling his clothes then Alastor is going to take the initiative to get his hands on skin too. He pushes that fancy shirt up and drags Angelo's boxers down by the waistband and immediately grabs his bare ass in both hands again, fingers digging in, dragging him forward again. He bumps against the cabinet counter behind him, which makes him surge back, straightening fully and grinding his hips forward to meet Angelo's with a deep purr in the back of his throat. He likes to give his prickly mortal at least some kind of warning before he completely upends the balance of power between them; if Angelo wants to stay in charge, he'd better take it.

[omertae]

Sometimes, rarely, Angelo wants Alastor to take over. It's funny that he's the only person Angelo really trusts with that, when all signs should point otherwise. But Alastor's done more for him than anyone else, and despite the little moments of discord, Angelo appreciates him. But right now he knows exactly what he wants, and it's only confirmed by the hard grunting sound he makes as Alastor's hips roll against his. Angelo breaks the kiss, and uses the grip he already has on his neck to turn him around, forcing him up against the cabinet.

He has to wrap an arm tight around his waist, pressing right up against his back, to finish getting his jeans open, and then he yanks them down around his thighs and gets a firm grip on his cock. "You already have enough of me," he says, his lips on the back of his neck, moving down to the curve at the top of his shoulder, which he nips with his teeth. "Stop asking for more."

[likenemesis]

It would make him laugh, hearing that, if the rough way that Angelo takes hold of his cock didn't set fire to his blood and burn out any trace of wry humor left behind. All that's left now is primal, savage want, like something animal. Something very much inhuman. Alastor exhales, like a snarl, and arches back against Angelo's chest, reaching back to grab a fistful of his hair again, gripping tight.

"I'll never have enough of you."

And that's all; no more purred offers or pretty images, no more asking tonight; this is enough, for now. He presses back again, grinding more against Angelo's cock behind him than thrusting his own into the fingers around him.

[omertae]

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.

[likenemesis]

Alastor is not human, but at times like this he's glad he could pass if he wanted to. Imagine missing out on this just because he didn't have the parts for it, or didn't have the sense to appreciate how much fun it could be when it's done right -- and Angelo sure as hell does it right. The first thrust inside him makes him jerk, with an obscene moan of satisfaction, and after that he just braces himself against the cabinet and lets Angelo do whatever the fuck he wants, keeping one hand tangled in that soft hair of his. "Fuck," he gasps, arching his back shamelessly again, "that's it, Angel, give it to me. Fuck me like you mean it."

[omertae]

He's never meant anything so much. He always means it with Alastor, however it happens between them, because there's nobody like him. Every thrust slides his cock deep inside him, practically fusing them together, and then he draws almost all the way out before he fucks into him again. He turns his head a little to mouth at the back of his neck, teeth scraping over his skin, each breath half a moan. "Tell me you're mine," he practically grunts, his grip on the cabinet white-knuckled. "Tell me."

[likenemesis]

The deep, filling thrusts shake his hold on Angelo's hair loose at the risk of yanking out a handful, and Alastor drops his head forward with a shuddering groan as he braces both hands on the counter, gripping the edge. When Angelo is in the right mood, it sometimes gets hard for Alastor to stay solid in his own skin. "I'm yours," he gasps out, glancing over his shoulder with eyes that are too bright, even as he thinks nearly hard enough to make it out of his mouth You're mine. You always have been. "You want me, you have me -- you're so fucking magnificent, I can't keep my hands off of you."

[omertae]

Times like these, Angelo wonders why he bothers with anyone else. Maybe Alastor's sweet-talking him, but it sounds real enough that it's stroking his ego nicely too. Nobody else talks to him quite like that. He presses his mouth to the back of Alastor's neck, breathing him in, his thumb kneading the head of his cock with just enough pressure, but his focus is still on drilling deep into him. "I do want you," he says roughly. "I want you all the time. If I had it my way you wouldn't leave my sight."