Work Text:
He traced his fingers along Joe's jaw, mumbling something in his deep, raspy voice. Joe hadn't done anything, but that seemed to piss him off. But shit, if Donald wanted something to happen, he could be his genie.
One swift grab of his collar, the other hand large on his neck, thumb placing pressure on his throat; desperation, the feeling was mutual. Though, Donald was also surprised Joe hadn't fainted yet.
No words were being exchanged, just a mild thud of Joe's head against the wall behind, his paper-white (and probably paper-thin) hair grazing against hard concrete. The perfect interval for a hot, heavy breath down its neck, or an aggressive kiss, but empty as they felt empty as they did.
"Do it,"
"Do what?" Donald teased, agonizing him with contact, the calluses on his palm overloading his senses. Also that bright fucking orange tan would burn anyone's corneas.
"i forgot"
"..."