Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New Orleans, after-hours party

The room was all cigarette haze. The air thick with jazz, smoke, and unspoken disdain. White faces, white gloves, white lies.
And then there was Alastor, cutting through the crowd like a red needle on black vinyl. The only colored man in the room, sharp in a three-piece crimson suit that cost more than most men made in a month.
Vincent Whittman, watched him from the bar and felt his stomach twist in a way he didn’t have a name for yet.

What the hell is one of them doing at a party like this?
 He though to himself

Still, the man moved like he owned the damn place
Tall, slim, waist you could almost span with two hands Vincent swallowed hard and hated himself for noticing
He slid up beside him, with that smooth voice

So… you're the man of the hour, huh? Quite the connotion you're causing

Alastor turned slowly, with a razor-thin smile, eyes glinting under the low lights

 My, my. I do seem to be tonight’s top story. 
Though the reception in here is simply dreadful…

He turned toward the balcony overlooking the bustling bar below, his posture impeccable, every movement fluid and refined. Vincent couldn't help but notice the way his suit hugged his frame, accentuating that fine build. 

Damn, he's got style for... well, one of them. Too bad it's wasted. 
The thought twisted in his gut, a forbidden spark he doused with a mental scoff.

Vincent signaled the bartender.

Two gins. The good stuff. Party’s free, drinks aren’t.

Name’s Vincent Whittman. You must have heard of me…

He stuck out his hand, waiting for the usual suck-up. 

Never heard of it. (An obvious lie)
Alastor said it briefly 

Vincent balled his fist under the table, staring him down hard. They sipped their drinks in awkward silence, eyes locked like they were in some standoff until Vincent breaks the silent 

Soooo.. What’s your name, dear?

 Alastor. Just Alastor. 
Though I suspect you already knew that…

Vincent’s grin sharpened. He had heard that honey-dipped creole name before crackling over half the radios in New Orleans

The radio man himself..huh (Suddenly everything makes sense) 
So tell me, Alastor… what brings a fellow like you to a room full of folks who’d rather see you fetching their drinks than drinking with them?

Alastor’s smile never flickered, but something cold flashed behind it.

Curiosity, my dear Vince. And perhaps the chance to watch certain people pretend they’re color-blind while their eyes give them away. Terribly really.

Huh.. Vince.. That was new.. Vincent smiles, and lean in closer than was strictly proper. 

You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that. Most men in your position would keep their heads down

Alastor tilted his glass, voice dropping to that velvet radio purr

Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I do love a live audience.

Some drunk producer’s nephew chose that moment to swagger over, glaring openly at Alastor head to toe like trash. 

Whitman! Can't believe I'm standing here with you! 

He grinned big, holding his full glass.

Vincent smiled back, playing the star, secretly digging the guy's attitude—it matched his own hidden crap.

Didn’t know they were letting just anybody in these days.

Alastor’s grin stretched wider, almost feral.

Oh My. C’mon in! Do run along, dear boy, the grow-ups are talking.

The drunk’s face got all red. Vincent stayed there watching over what type of reaction he could see out of Alastor, but then he saw too many eyes of those big fishes in the party seeing the commotion.. So he decided to open his mouth to smooth it over, reputation first, always, but before he could, the drunk flung his martini straight at Alastor’s back. 
Gin soaking across crimson wool. A collective gasp came through the room. Alastor froze, bending his knee already to dab at the stain, smile fixed like it had been carved there. Only the twitch at the corner of his eye betrayed him. Vincent moved before his brain caught up. He shoved the drunk hard enough to send him sprawling, then yanked off his own midnight-blue vest and draped it over Alastor’s shoulders in one motion.

 Damn it, not the suit! Here, let me—

His hands settled at Alastor’s waist to steady him as he rose, fingers brushing expensive fabric and the impossible slimness underneath. For one electric second Vincent’s thoughts short-circuited.
Jesus Christ, that waist…
He jerked his hands away like he’d been burned.
Alastor turned, slow, deliberate, growled a low voice, low enough only Vincent could hear. 

Thank you ever so much, darling… but I don’t take charity.

He let Vincent’s vest slide off his shoulders and drop straight into the puddle of gin on the marble floor. The room went dead quiet. 
Vincent’s smile froze. His voice came out a hiss, barely audible 

You little—

He swallowed the rest. Too many eyes. Too many cameras outside waiting for tomorrow’s gossip column. Alastor straightened, brushed an invisible speck from his sleeve, and met Vincent’s eyes one last time.
Alastor, soft as velvet, deadly as a knife

 Do enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Whittman.

He turned on his heel and walked out, back straight, every step deliberate. Vincent watched him go, fingers grasping around his glass, pulse roaring in his ears. 
In the alley behind the club, Alastor wiped the last of the gin from his fingers, smile finally gone, eyes black with rage.
Alastor, under his breath

I should have slit his throat when I had the chance.

Half a mile away, Vincent slammed his fist into the wall of the men’s bathroom, smearing blood across white tile.

Vincent, teeth clenching into his skin

I should’ve slit his goddamn throat when I had the chance.

Two men
Two smiles hiding murder
One spark that was never going to go out.

Something for you guys to see while i work in the cover <33

Chapter Text

WN Television Studios, 2:53 a.m

Vincent after a long day finally came to his studio, where he passes more the time than his actual home.

Sitting in his chair the man growled when his thoughts got heavier, why was that damn man still in his head. It’s been hours he could just sleep right there but then he started to remember. “Vince…” That fucker really did it. 
He stole his show, he got into his head and now all he can hear is how his name was used in that smooth voice, and how his waist felt in his hand.

- Fuck.. The hell I’m thinking.

He notice how tight his pants was, glancing down he saw a bulge trying to show trough the fabrics of his pants;
The feeling wasn't going away even tho he was ashamed of it, angry at it.
He lit a cigarette, took one drag, crushed it. Lit another.

 It’s just a body, Vincent… Any body. 
Any waist that fits my hands will do. 

At least that’s what he wants to believe
He picked up the phone, put it down. Picked it up again.

I’m not one of them. I’m not.

Well if that’s how it’s gonna be at least he know who to call.
He knew one of his beloveds assistant would do anything to get a promotion, and he needed someones touch. 
C’mon it’s almost a change of favor; he though to himself.

- Hey doll why don’t you came here into my office today. I know it’s pretty late, but I remember you saying that you would be a good girl and tries hard to be at the spotlight, soo- what’s your response?

The woman in the other line of the phone, who just got awaken by this sudden call knew the type of man Vincent was becoming, and she was even surprised that she had a chance to actual reply, but in one thing he’s right. She needed the job. And a promotion would be great.. Even tho, she know deep down that she would regret being taken advantage off.

- I- I.. Right sir, I will be there in a few. 

He turns off the phone, loosened his tie, and let his head fall back, remembering how that bastard had the courage to pick his best suit and trow away like trash, he knew Alastor had to pay for that humiliation. But if he had to be honest, he felt like it would be better to never see that man again.

20 minutes later, he finally hears the door creaked open.

- Faster huh, I guess you really wanted to have your new ideas on the Tv 

He smiles at her, didn’t stand up. He just unzipped, slow and deliberate, and leaned back..
She though quickly, she now know more than ever what is going on, and she will do it. only the though about Vincent choosing her before the others, it’s speaks something for her, even tho she knows this is fucked up

- Well, sir I’ll be happy to be of any help 

she swallow, walks close to him, get on her knees and stare at him.

- C’mon Belle, you know what to do…

She starts to get his boxers low and she almost got smacked with how hard his cock is, pooping off his underpants, twitching, wanting the attention, really just like him. Vincent felt her breath hot close to the head of his dick, so fucking hot he though. he groaned loud, shameless, fingers knotting in her hair.  She opened her mouth and licked the tip and he moaned like never before. He even got himself surprised by it, how could he be this hard while the only fucking though he had this whole time was that fucker.
Angry he pushed his dick down her throat, making her gasp. 

- Fuck, your throat’s perfect—

He keep fucking her mouth moaning, biting his lips, he’s so sweet, it’s been a while since he felt the need to touch himself or better alow anyone close to him.
His hands are sweat, until he goes and pass his right hand into her clothes, oh that felt.. Almost like.. No, what I’m a thinking ? But fuck it’s so…

- FINE! Come here belle, sit on my lap, I want to fell you better.

She with tears on her eyes, mouth wet and sore got his dick out of her throat, she stands with and do as commanded, she sits on his lap, while the skirt of hers, was getting wet with his juices. She can see his dick between her thighs.

- I want  you to stroke me while I touch you...

She does, and his hands start to grab into her.
He thinks to himself her hands are too soft. Alastor’s grip would almost bruise.. 

- Do it harder!

He says panting like a dog while he pass his hands trough her clothes, but still not on her skin.
she dint know this type of fetich's. While her does her supposed job, Vincent is losing his shit 

Damn, her waist is almost like it. He moans, while feeling the texture of the clothes, it’s the silk? it’s the warm of it? Maybe if I squint it?
He does not know but the way this reminds him of Alastor waist, that body he would kill for the chance to touch again right now. 
He can feel himself getting close, he focus on the clothes, and his thoughts, he’s so close, oh if he could hear him say that again.
He shut his eyes and let the lie take over.

- Say my name.

She obeyed, muffled around him:

-V-vincent… Sir…

- No. His fingers dug in hard 

- Say it like he does. Just Vince.

He drools over her shoulder, while panting with his hands on her.

She tried, voice shaking:

- Vince…

That alone is enough, it makes a electric wave trough his spine, Vincent came with a choked growl, hips jerking in her hand, he came a lot. He pants without air, trembling about the sensation.
She gets up and cleans herself. Expecting him to say something…

- Fuck that was—

When the haze cleared, the shame hit like a freight train.
He stares at her, while covering himself up, he feels worse than ever, she gets next to the door, but stops when she hears him say

- Thanks Bellle, See you in the Tv show. 

She did it ? Really, she dint even know if this is right, maybe he’s in a good mood? Even tho she admires him since his weather news time, she knows what man with power do to woman in her position. He did it, and she is not stupid. But he will actually give what she wanted ?? Anyway that’s tomorrow question, she just want to end this night already. She reply 

- Until tomorrow. And she goes off

Whittman feels terrible.
As he should since that’s the first time he takes over something like this, but being a bad man isn't new for him, but the feelings, oh those are.
He thinks with himself, spiring his chair, he puts his hands onto his face and scream louder into the air 

- I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!

He knows know what he truly wanted, and he wanted to get Alastor in his lap, hear him saying his name with that smooth voice in his ears, whispering that he could do anything to him.
Just to imagine him touching that slim, body of his. 
He shakes his head, and he’s so ashamed of it. So horny by it, so angry at himself. 

- I never want to see that bastard again. Never!

He said it like a vow.
He said it like a lie.

Chapter Text

Washington, D.C. – WN Television Studios 12:00 p.m

Producers and writers ran everywhere between commercials, waiting for the next segment.
Vincent was just standing there, still as a statue, watching everything. He took off his glasses, cleaned the lenses with his tie, then put them back on.
Then Belle appeared among the cameramen and lighting guys, his former assistant, now safely parked on the cooking show.

She dropped the weekly stack of letters on his desk without looking at him too long. Smart move.

He flipped through the envelopes without interest. Contracts, Sponsors,
Invitations from others stations, Same old garbage.
Then one envelope got his attention, a red envelope with gold wax seal. Vincent tore it open right there. A Big gala, in three weeks. Formal… mentioning every important name in radio and television.
At the bottom: “Plus one required.”
A grin spread across his face before he could stop it.

A Plus one.
Of course it required a goddamn plus one.
He could show up alone (his name was on every important list in the city), but the thought of Alastor gliding in on some elegant arm, all perfect posture and sharper smile, while Vincent stood there alone like a fucking idiot… No way.
It's been five months since that night. 5 months telling himself he’d never have to see that bastard again and now the universe was laughing at him.
He crushed the invitation, then smoothed it out again. 
He had nobody. 
Not a single damn person. 
He’d been too busy climbing up, too busy making sure no one ever got close enough to matter, but Vincent Whittman didn’t lose. 
Not at business. Not at parties.

Definitely not to some colored radio host who still lived rent-free in his head.
He’d find someone.
Someone gorgeous.
Someone who would made Alastor’s date look cheap by comparison.
He pocketed the red envelope and started scanning the room to find a girl pretty, pretty enough for the competition.
Game on.

New Orleans, Louisiana – 2:00 p.m

Alastor walked out of the booth, rolled his shoulders, and grabbed the mail someone had left on the table.
Bills, Fan letters, Junk.
Then one red envelope. He opened it with a fingernail, smile already curling.
Same gala. Same date. Same “plus one” bullshit.
He didn’t even have to think.
Minzy was going to lose her mind when he told her.
He folded the invitation, slipped it into his breast pocket, and headed straight to the Star Court Club.

The night show was to start in a few hours and the place didn’t feel right without him at the piano. (at least for Minzy)
He pushed through the doors. Cigarette smoke, low laughter, Already warming up…
Minzy spotted him from the stage and squealed.

- Alastor, you beautiful bastard! I thought you were gonna leave me hanging again!

She ran over in her glitter and heels, threw her arms around his neck.
He just chuckled, bopped her nose.

- Never, darling. You know I live for breaking hearts with you.

She dragged him to the piano, already buzzing.

- New song tonight. You wrote it filthy, right?

- Only the way you like it. The lights dimmed. 

Spotlight hit. Alastor sat, cracked his knuckles, and started playing with the band.
Minzy’s voice poured out (slow, smoky, dangerous).
Every soul in the room stopped talking as she started to sing;

♬ ~ My man is as mean as he can be
My man, he makes a fool of me
Never treats me good
Don't know why I should love him…
He's lying when he says: I love you
I know it, but what am I to do?
Though he makes me cry
I don't care for I love him… ~♪

The piano keys felt warm under Alastor’s fingers, while Minzy beautiful voice echoed trough the room, he was flabbergasted.
The way he always felt so happy by her side. Alastor kept playing, smile fixed, eyes half-closed.
He always felt lighter beside her like the world made sense when they were on that stage together.

Until the second verse came...

♪ ~ Once I laughed and loved for it all wrong
Then he came along like a new song
Now I sing a blue song ~ ♬

He.

Not she.

He.

The note hit him like a fist straight to the chest, his fingers almost slipped on the keys, but he caught himself.

The smile never dropped. 

But inside?

Oh.

Minzy had changed the lyrics on purpose.
She turned her into him.
The cruel man she sang about… was him.
Just when he though she would understand his first ever confection… Apparently, they were never meant to be anything more than this.Alastor kept playing, perfect smile, while the thought sank deeper.
Maybe that’s all I really am to her.
The one she only needs when the lights go down and the crowd wants a show.
The one she sings about when she wants to bleed a little on stage.

The last chord hung in the air.
The room exploded in applause.
Minzy turned to him, eyes shining, blowing kisses to the crowd
Alastor bowed his head, without a smile in sight. 
His hands stayed in the keys long after the song ended. Inside his head the song kept playing on repeat.

She.

She came along like a new song.

Now I sing a blue song...

He’d write those lyrics four months ago, kinda drunk on cheap whiskey thinking to himself that maybe if she sings it, she would finally see him.
Maybe she’ll understand why I never let anyone else touch me like she does.

STUPID!

She dint see him.
She only saw the monster everyone else saw.
The man who fixed her problems with a snap of fingers and never asked for anything back.
He was her weapon.
Her shield.
And tonight she’d just told the whole room exactly what he was to her.
Someone she loved, but only from a safe distance.
He wanted to slam the lid down.
He wanted to laugh.
He wanted to drag her off stage and ask if she even knew whose face he saw every time he wrote her another goddamn love song.

But he didn’t.
Because that would mean admitting it hurt and Alastor didn’t do hurt
Alastor smiled, he buried those feelings in the same shallow grave he put the corpses. So he stood up, Bowed, Let Minzy kiss his check like nothing ever happened. 

Inside tho he remembered of that goddamn red envelope in his pocket, the damn gala. The plus one.

He’d planed to bring her. Show her off, let her shine in front of every producers.
Now? 
Now he wasn’t sure he wanted her anywhere near him when the lights were bright and the masks could fell off, because if she ever looked at him (Really looked at him) She might see the truth:

That this wasn't only about her, but someone else too.
Someone with cold blue and green eyes, and a grip that still burned five months later.

Someone he was about to see again in just three weeks
And for the first time in years, Alastor wasn’t sure if his smile would be enough to survive it.

And somewhere far away, Vincent was picking out a tuxedo and a date he didn’t want.

Neither of them knew it yet…
…but they were both dancing for the same damn song.

Chapter Text

Those 3 weeks went flying, In the end, Alastor din’t make a lot of inviting Minzy;
He just slipped the invitation into her hand one night at the club, between flashes of neon light.
Minzy din’t waste time. She was jumping with joy, the rest of the day before the suppose party was wasted with chose of dresses and accessories, both for her and Alastor. Not that she had to do much for that fucker to look the most charm man in the room.
Alastor was amazing in the new suit she bought for him: black with deep wine-red accents and subtle gold detailing.
He looked sharp.
She went with emerald green and gold dress, with black accessories. 
Together they looked lethal.
Perfect!
Night fell fast. It was almost time.
Alastor offered Minzy his arm, she took it, and arm-in-arm they’d go their way for the Mayflower Hotel.

The grand ballroom of the Mayflower Hotel, Washington D.C
had chandeliers dripped light onto pearls, tuxedos, and champagne flutes. 
The orchestra played something slow and expensive.
Alastor stepped through the double doors with Minzy on his arm, smile dialed to lethal.
She was a vision in emerald sequins, tiny and sparkling, laughing already at something he’d whispered on the way in.
Cameras flashed. Heads turned.

The room as all talk- no bite.

Twenty feet away, Vincent Whittman felt the shift before he saw them.
He was leaning against a marble pillar, one hand in the pocket of his white-blue tuxedo, the other holding a scotch he hadn’t tasted in five minutes.
On his arm hung Evelyn—or was it Evelynne?— He truly can’t remember.  
It was just some girl his secretary had dug up at the last second. Tall, ginger, perfect cheekbones, thin figure with a dress the color of gold.
She was talking to a producer, laughing too loud, squeezing Vincent’s forearm like it was a prop. 
Then he finally saw.

Alastor.
And her.

Vincent’s grip on the glass tightened until the crystal squeaked. 
Minzy spotted him first. Her smile went from dazzling to razor-sharp in half a second. 
“Oh, honey” she purred loud enough for half the room to hear 
“isn’t that your little television prince over there? The one who thinks too much of himself?”

Alastor does a little laugh, he had told her a thing or two about Vincent, but nothing that could make her get the vision he had of this man so right. 
His eyes slid across the crowd and locked onto Whittman’s.
The white suited man felt in his spine first—then lower.
The redhead followed Minzy’s gaze, leaned in, and whispered 

“Who’s the colored man in the black tux? He looks like trouble…”

''Shut it.'' Vincent snapped, sharp enough enough to make her shut up quickly and get postured.

Minzy pushed Alastor in her arms already walking towards them. 
Every step closing the five-month gap between spilled gin and whatever the hell was about to happen tonight.

Vincent downed the scotch in one burning swallow.
“Well, well” he drawled as they reached him, eyes raking over Minzy with open disdain.  (what a waste.)
“Look who showed up. Alastor… and this—darling?”

'' This one is Minzy, she’s my partner. And the most precious thing of the night.'' Alastor said smoothly

'' Oh Alastor, you charmer—'' Minzy laughed.  “—But thank you, baby.”

'' Partner huh?…'' Vincent repeated, the words sharp.

'' Well this is.. Ah..  My little associate. '' (He does not remember her name)

''Pleasure to meet you dear, quite a pleasure! '' He kisses her hand. Eve’s blush, Vincent force the contact to end faster.

'' Well, enjoy the party you too. I have some big fishes to give attention to. ''

They parted.  Vincent goes to get more people under his control and captive with his manipulation. 
While Alastor and Minzy are there just to enjoy the party, drinks, and good meat.
Vincent kept glancing back, irritated beyond reason at the sight of Alastor with someone on his arm who wasn’t… well. Anyone he approved of.

A lot of talk to white big names and schemes here, and there. Some hours pass, a tired Whittman decided to give it a time, his suppose girl was already getting into another man’s arm, as most of women would do.
He rolls his eyes, he just seated in the sofa graping a plate of a fillet mignon from this gala buffet, he cuts the meat, puts the fork into his mouth and chew on the sweet meat until he notices, across the salon, Alastor was now alone in the bar, drinking cheap whiskey like it was water.
He stayed there for a while and Vincent dint had more to do than to watch his rival, an hour pass.
Now he’s drinking his favorite scotch, he’s enjoying every sip he gives, but that can’t be said about Alastor. He’s already on his six whisky, he’s laughing in a way different from the begging of the party. Looks like he’s enjoying himself.

Little did he know it was the kind of enjoyment people used to drown out the voices in their head.

Minzy finally showed up again in Alastor sight, there she was, making all the fuzz in the night be about her, oh how he loved her that way, Alastor never had problems being in the shadows, but now he wouldn't mind doing some big impressions.

'' Oh dear, so hows is it ? Enjoying this big party? '' She smiled crumbled next to him, getting between his arms.

''Well, well, sweetheart you know me— I’m a man of many faces. This night’s finally getting a bit enjoyable don’t ya think?''
He signals the drink to her, in a way of inviting her to drink with him.

'' Now, now, Alastor. What is this? How many did you drink already?? You big kitten, how could you get this drunk I’m such a important party..
And… why dint you invite me early, hahaha.'' Minzy laughed, snatched a drink from the bar, clinked it against his, and tossed it back.

Their banter went on, laced with little flirtations. Minzy loved him like this—loose, pliant, hers.
Alastor was a terrible drunk; she knew she had to keep an eye on him tonight, or tomorrow’s papers might report a body.

Across the room, The alone man, overspreading his legs in the sofa, tie undone, staring openly at Minzy.
how the hell was a woman like her with a man like him? She wasn’t even an eight. And him—showing up here, what was this bastard thinking going to a place like this… Then he saw Minzy pull Alastor body against her on the barstool.
Oh that bitch… fuck. They kinda— he looks both ways before finishing his though. —Hot.
What’s going on with me, man ? 
First a damn black guy now a fat woman, I must be going fucking crazy.
But he cant help himself, still watching the way they touched so freely. 
Lucky bastard, he thought, unsure which of them he envied more.

Minzy slipped between Alastor’s thighs, while he’s smiling, flushed face, mostly drunk. 
Her hand stays in his thigh just for a second, but for Vincent damn that was like a hour, he knows now that he would love to be in the middle of anything this is.
He can’t get hard in a place like this so he cross his legs, put his hands into his mouth and start pouring a new drink.
Then he gets up from the sofa, puts his empty glass on the side table, and goes out onto the balcony, trying to clear his head of thoughts.

He takes a cigarette from his pocket vest, and just as he's about to light it, he hears someone opening the balcony door. 
''To who do I own the pleasure ? '' He says before turning to see the person.. 
And know he’s shocked to see that it was Alastor of all people. Alastor shut the door behind before going into the balcony, placing his arms on the railing, while Vincent watched him every second.

 “Pleasure, you say? —” Alastor smirked. "—Hmmm... You don’t look surprised to see me.” The smile goes off while Vincent burned a little.

Alastor starts to pick his own tabacco, a very good one, placed it between his lips with his eyes half-closed.

'' Here…'' Vincent heard himself say, holding out his lighter like an idiot.
Alastor leaned in, lit the cigarette,

''Don’t mind if I do.'' and exhaled a slow plume of smoke.
Vincent’s mind raced, He had to say something but he seems to be unable to chose how to act in front of this man, but he decides to take some of his doubts out;

'' So.. Hmm you and that woman.'' 

'' What about it ?'' He says drinking a little more from the cup in his left hand.

'' Are you.. Serious with her?'' He’s so shy to ask it and Alastor is having fun about it how that man changed since the last talk they had.

'' Oh god’s no. We are just the kinda of person to enjoy each other company.. I guess'' (oh this stung more than it should have.)

Now Alastor is with his eyes locked into Vincent.

''What made you think that, dear?''

This man sure knows how to play with his mind.

'' Well, I saw how open you’re for her touch. I mean not that I was watching or anything—'' ( great Vincent, really cool way of giving into your teeth) 
''—Is just that you don’t seem the type…''

Alastor was drunk—dangerously so.
So Vincent is right, he would not let this type of affection be show in public in ways that he normally would refuse and feel uncomfortably that easy. 
But right now, Alastor just wants to enjoy this fuzzy feelings and entertainment in hand.
Alastor just smiled and stepped closer, Vincent backs up a little until the railing stopped him.
He’s so nervous, he doesn't know what he did, if he said too much, oh god what if he saw what truly is going on in his mind. 
Fuck. What now ??

Alastor shove his hand with his drink right above Vincent shoulder, and rested his left arm there.
Vincent shocked face and blush is cute on him, Alastor thinks to himself.
 
'' Oh, Vince—'' he purred, voice low and flirty.
''—You know nothing about me darling.'' 
He says with that charm radio voice.

Vincent whole system is at shock. 
FUCK. 
OH FUCK, HE’S… DAMN, HE’S SO CLOSE, HE SAID.. IT..
The way Alastor says his name in diminutive gets to his ear and makes it burn as the rest of him, he can feel getting aroused.
His cock throbbed. That’s too much for him too handle.

Alastor put the end of his cigar into his mouth, he pour it inside and looks straight at Vincent eyes and pour it next to his face.
Vincent mouth is getting wet with how much spit he’s forming, almost drooling, so he swallows hard.
Smelling Al’s cigar in his face, he never though this would make him melt like this, he can’t be helped anymore.
He does not care about how this is insane, how this attraction makes no sense, about how much he tried to tell himself that this was nothing but hatred. 
Bitch. I’m in. 
He was done fighting it. 
He finally get the courage to move, his hands trembling he then caress Alastor’s back with one of his hand. back—soft fabric, Sooo damn soft and warm.
Then abruptly  
Al backs up and shove him a side, hiding his smile.

'' Well, I’m think I’m done for the night.'' He throws the cigarette away and drinks the rest of his beverage.

But as he places the glass on the railing, his coordination impaired by the alcohol, the glass slips onto the balcony and falls, breaking near his shoes.

Vincent, even with his wick cut, pays no attention to his words, and seeing the glass falling towards Alastor, he tries to catch it in mid-air, but fails.

When the glass breaks, he decides to pick up the shards and move them away from Alastor's expensive shoes.
'' Al, wait—I can help—''

Alastor thinks to himself. he really likes to be of assistance huh. What a lost case. 
He takes a step back, looking towards the back door of the balcony to see if anyone has noticed they are missing, until he hears it.

'' FUCKING HELL!'' The glass sliced Vincent’s palm deep, and the blood flowing don’t seems to stop. It was deeper than he would though.
Whittman gets up, with his left hand pressing into his right hand, while the blood is flowing down his palm and pulse.

There was silence.

Then Alastor’s pupils blew wide. He lowers his head as he stands completely still. His eyes are serious, with a shadow over them.

Before Vincent can even glimpse what was happening, Al is grabbing into his right hand and forcing his body against his.

'' THE FUCK?! What is up with you?'' Vincent says, harsh and in pain

The scent of blood hit Alastor like a drug. He hadn’t fed his real hunger in too long, to be his true self.
A knife flashed in Alastor’s other hand watching this Vincent mind goes silent for the first time, he’s now in survival mode.
He seems the knife, wait ? That’s the buffet knife he was using while eating the fillet mignon.
Did Alastor take his knife from the table next to the sofa, before entering the balcony? Was he planning on something this whole time??
That’s why he closed the door? Not for education about the smoke going to the salon but so no-one could see what he was about to do? 
There’s so much in Vincent head rn, that was it? He just wanted Vincent gone, he’s that ambitions, just like him.
So this was all a plan, and he felt for it!
Fuck, I was so stupid. He used his charm on me, and like a fucking queer.
I went with it!!
But Vincent would go down that easy, then he pushes Al blouse, in his direction, trying to get the knife from his hand.

both fighting for the knife. 

Suddenly out of nowhere making all the silent became noisy in his mind, Alastor licks the blood from Vincent’s hand.
Vincent Blushes hard, but has enough strength to makes the knife drops from Al hand, clattered to the ground.

Vincent keep his hand in Alastor left pulse, griping it hard. 
'' W- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?'' He says with his voice trembling 
'' Get the fuck off me!'' he tries pushing Alastor off, and now Alastor put his whole face into his face.

'' Shh—''  Alastor whispered, yanking Vincent closer by the waist. 
'' —Let me enjoy this.”

" W- wait… " Vincent whimpered trying not to moan.

Vincent closes his eyes, bites his lips, he can feel the warmth that comes from Alastor body on his, his crotch getting so close to Al’s crotch.
Al then slips his tongue between his bloody finger and hand palm.
Damn, this type of shit would happen only in my sicks dream, I can’t believe this. 
Opening his eyes, he sees Alastor tongue going after the blood line into his pulse, making a wet noise he never will be able to erase from his memory.

" Please, Al… T- This is so fucking hot." He can totally feels his cock dripping wet in his pants, who could blame him?
Alastor paused, looking at him, blood on his lips and smiled.

" You taste delicious, dear." It’s almost like Alastor can’t hear what this nerd is rumbling for him.
The only problem is now that he’s  starving.
But before Alastor could crave his teeth into Vincent flesh right there and now.

He’s stooped by a camera flash that cames from the under view of the balcony.
Alastor shoving this white guy whole body away from him, getting his eyes all focused on the noise the camera made, almost like a switch was triggered inside of him.

" What was this for?? Did you lose your goddamn mind!"

" Quiet! " He says shortly and impactful.

Alastor senses are not in the right state, but he did sober up and he could see someone running faster with what looks like a camera in hand, from that distance.

"Perfect." (That’s really what I needed now. I let myself open. And know I have to deal with this!) He looks to Vincent, there.
Standing with his face still red, hard.
I must have lost my mind. Alastor though.
Why would I let this get so far when I had no problems killing one’s like him easily in the past. This buffoon of a man, pathetic for attention.

He was disgusted with himself

" Whittman right? "

"YEAH?! THE HELL? You say that like you wasn't all over me in a second ago?? What’s up with you huh? Is this a sick plan of yours?!"

Alastor, closes his eyes. Why the fuck I did this to myself. This isn't worth my time or my hunger. 

" Look, forget what happened here. I wasn’t in my right mind. And I think we have worse things to deal with! "
It’s easy for Vincent to perceive he was getting angrier the more he talks.

" What would that be ? I still don’t know what were you looking for in the hood from up here." Vincent was too much horny and dizzy with all that emotions going trough his mind and dick to notice a big ass flashlight, but this does makes him look even more pathetic to Al.

"You can toy around as much as you want, but right now, dear.
Someone’s running to the nearest darkroom to splash our little moment across tomorrow’s front page. 
If you know what I’m trying to say."

" NO WAY ,No fucking way. Not now— I cant believe. I-"

" What a great and normal response you displayed!!" He says with the most sarcastic tone ever.
" I guess we will have to do something about it. Don’t we? "
He smiles, sticking his hand. Almost like a deal type 

Vincent stared at the offered hand, then at Alastor’s face—still flushed, still hungry.

"Alright, you got me. Fine, We fix this. Then I never want to see your face again!"

" Agreed."

Their eyes locked—rage, lust, and something far more dangerous crackling between them.

They shook on it, while the blood dropps sealing the deal.