Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Read Part I.

2013, the peak of summer in Puerto Rico.

The humidity on that island is stiflingly hot. Vincent is lounging on a chair with a rainbow umbrella doing little apart from supplying shade, with a large pool for the view.

The CEO is wearing a full business suit for his own sanity even in a whopping 89.6°F of heat in San Juan, with a laptop perched on his knee as he works remotely. It’s somewhat quiet with a few people in the pool, and if people want to stare at him, he couldn't tell with his head deep within his laptop.

He quickly types a few messages for his assistant. He switches tabs, and looks at the news from the United States. Nothing particularly noteworthy. Opening the news pages always brings him back to Alastor, so he avoids it. After the ordeal after his kidnapping, Vincent was never truly the same - Alastor had been convicted life behind bars and will receive the death sentence within the following year. 

After the ordeal he suffered following his kidnapping, Vincent was never truly the same again. Alastor was sentenced to life in prison and will be executed sometime the following year.

Good riddance.

Vincent pulls a grim expression as he presses send. Alastor had explained the reasons for his actions to the judges, with a ridiculous accusation of rape. All this torture, this violence, this starvation, all for a so-called “rape”. Vincent knew he was better than a rapist. Sleeping with that man, in his office, after a few beers, had been consensual, he swore it. And besides, if he hadn't wanted to, Alastor would have made it clear, but that bastard had been willing to do anything to work with him, specifically him, Vincent Sterling.

Vincent didn't appreciate Alastor disappearing into thin air after that erotic encounter. So what? Hadn't he fucked him well enough?

After the trauma, Vincent never moved on. Vincent still struggled wearing clothes for his own comfort; but he couldn't stand looking at himself and especially the people who could potentially stare at his disgusting body. There is also sex and romance; Vincent is physically repulsed by the notion of being touched, while yet he feels so incredibly lonely.

While on the other hand, Vincent had been welcomed back with open arms into the office. He had so much to pick up on since he was missing. Complaints, views, money, contracts, taxes. Eelliot and the team did what they could do while he was away but better for worse the company had slowly gone up in flames.

Vincent and Eelliot were another disaster in itself with the assistant clearly still having strong feelings for his superior. Vincent was having none of it, but when the CEO was in his lowest moments in the office, at least Eelliot would offer a reassuring pat on the back as if that would make his pain go away.

It was clear Eelliot wanted more from Vincent like the good old days. But he wasn't that man any more. Depression and anxiety held Vincent in a deadly choke hold, suffocating him. Contemplating on finishing Alastor's job himself many, many times but he was too much of a pussy to even do that.

Alastor had taken everything from him. 

Vincent grits his teeth, typing furiously on the keyboard.  His mind feels dark and bleak, stuck in his own time while the world around continues to move on with irrelevance. What was the point in any of this?

Vincent had even given up presenting his own television game and debate shows –his passion– and now had new presenters working for him while he worked behind the scenes, at the top of his isolated castle. He was sometimes recognized, and Vincent hated that.

Only until the company had been stabilized by Vincent's grinding had Eelliott had suggested this much needed vacation for Vincent, he hadn't taken any days off for the past… Vincent couldn't ever really recall, so Eelliot had been very insistent after the incident. 

Reluctantly, Vincent complied as the man would badger him about needing a proper break. 

Vincent is already here since four days and he absolutely fucking hates it, but at least he feels somewhat safer being away from his home town. Nobody knows who he is here. He hopes.

Vincent sighs, wiping the building sweat from his forehead and grimaces. The heat is becoming too much now, even if it’s during later in the day. He had only come out to get some vitamin C. Since arriving on the island he hasn't really left the resort or even his hotel room.

But the vitamin C cure is surely the only thing Valentino appreciates about this place. Sun, deckchairs, and a little extra money to comfortably cover the month... These are things easily found in a luxury hotel. Someone rich enough who would want to spend some time with a beautiful creature. Valentino doesn’t complain; it’s much better to be self-employed than to have to sleep in a rat hole. He is self-sufficient and chooses his targets. He goes to these kinds of wealthy places and makes a profit to cover his stay.

And sometimes he even gets paid without having to fuck, just to keep company. He has a lot of charm. He is a slim, slender man with tanned skin and mischievous, seductive eyes. He has black braided hair, to which he likes to add white extensions. In this heat, the braids are tied into a low, messy bun. And his body is covered only by a light pink, very low-cut bikini. He is wearing only the panties. His torso is marbled with small, years-old scars, as are his arms and legs.

He's getting out of the pool, water trickling down his body to the ground. His sunglasses are on the ground, waiting to fall back on his nose, and he turns his head toward the only man crazy enough to work in the middle of the day, on a deckchair, in a full business suit.

Valentino inspects the man from afar. Expensive clothes, a computer from a brand whose apple is listed on the stock exchange, and that tired look that only rich men know how to have on their faces when they're on vacation. It’s a target he hasn’t seen since the beginning of his stay. So, he has to go test the temperature... 

Quietly, with an elegant step, Valentino walks over to the deckchair. He has the annoying habit of never putting his heels on the ground, due to wearing too many high-heeled shoes. But it makes his legs look fucking great.

Vincent grumbles as he types into the Excel program of the new timetables for the following week. Vincent's eyes derail from the glowing screen when a pair of sharp heels with legs that are warm brown come into his view. Vincent sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“Can I help you, miss? As you can see– I'm clearly–” Vincent's eyes finally trail upwards, his words caught in his throat. It is not indeed a woman, but a man.

Vincent doesn’t know where to even look.

This man’s golden skin gleams and he has a body Vincent would kill for, excluding the nipple piercings. Is this man a model? Then Vincent's eyes draw to the obvious bulge that is absolutely not hidden by the bikini. He can even see a pretty dark happy trail… a deep, embarrassing blush reaches to Vincent’s neck and ears. 

Vincent can’t even reach the mysterious man's face before looking away in horror, swallowing hard. 

Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with him?

A small laugh immediately leaves Valentino's mouth, as the businessman melts in embarrassment in front of him. Cute.

"Oy, you know how to make a first impression." Valentino says, a smile on his lips. He slowly sits down on the edge of the lounge chair, one hand resting on his own leg, the other on the white plastic. Vincent can’t help but feel apprehension as the beautiful man helps himself to sit next to him, with a little bit of distance between them.

"Do I look that much like a woman?" The latino murmurs teasingly.

Valentino's eyes search for the man's. He had taken him down easily enough, many would have turned away, others wouldn't have hesitated to insult him, and finally there was the last category; those who flashed immediately. So he looks at the redness on the man’s cheeks, the avoidant gaze, the embarrassment that never leaves the poor man. He looks very tired, seen up close, and his features remind him of someone… an actor in a movie?

Out of respect for his own sanity, Vincent keeps his gaze ahead. Fuck, even the man’s voice sounded sexy.

What the fuck is happening to him? He is supposed to be over men and anything with– ugh! Vincent clears his throat as he tries to find his voice.

“M-my apologies, I had just assumed before looking properly, men don't usually wear heels...” Vincent bites his lip.

Valentino tilts his head, grabs the elastic in his hair, and undoes the bun, letting his braids cascade down to his shoulder blades. He takes his time. The sun glides across his skin. He listens to the man, eyeing him with interest, though a slightly annoyed expression crosses his features.

"I wear them, and I'm a man..." He says softly. "Now you know we can wear them." Valentino slowly strokes his own thigh, as if distracted. Vincent finds his eyes drawn to the elegant man before him, like a magnet. Heat is not coming from just the sun itself.

"But, tell me, let's not talk too much about myself... You remind me of someone, have you been on TV?" He turns his head towards the peculiar man.

Vincent’s eyes widen, grimacing, the familiar hate feeling of being a popular TV presenter.

“I… No. You must have me mistaken for someone else.”  

Valentino frowns slightly before leaning over, almost over Vincent, and glaring at his eyes. Vincent's eyes widens further, his breath shallow as this man stares into his goddamn soul. His mouth goes dry. This man is absolutely jaw droppingly gorgeous. He hasn't been seduced like that for at least three years.

Valentino can’t remember his name. He recognizes those heterochromatic eyes… He finally smiles triumphantly, revealing a canine with a gold crown.

"... Vincent Sterling, if I'm not mistaken?" He had to search his entire memory, but a newscaster like that was not forgotten. Valentino had particularly loved the two-bit romantic comedies that aired late at night. 

"I recognize your eyes..."

Valentino finally straightens up after a while, biting his lower lip.

Vincent curls his hands into a fist. The man has guessed correctly and Vincent can’t help but feel even more embarrassed than ever before. This is ridiculous, he is a damn CEO–

“I– fuck,” The man drags a hand down his face, sighing deeply.

"Don't worry, your pretty little face, Papi, I'll soon forget this little lie... Let me be blunt, I can show you a good time, in exchange for a little cash. I pay for the drink, you pay for the night. I don't care if you're Vincent Sterling or the last President of the United States..."

Vincent's throat dries up, breath quickening. A Good Time? Is this man a sex worker…?

“Wait... are you suggesting what I think... you're suggesting? I’m sorry– but… I'm not... gay.” Vincent looks up at the man as he stands, trying to keep his gaze into the man’s warm brown eyes. 

Valentino now has his hand on Vincent's knee, unfolding his legs. Vincent startles at touch, a sharp brow raising.

"Hey, to each his own, right? I have a body made to be paid, Baby, especially if you use it. You don't have to be gay to have a good time with me..." Then, Valentino decides to close the laptop and take the man's device and place it beside them on the deck chair, out of reach. Vincent attempts to reach for it, startled that the handsome stranger would damage his expensive laptop. 

“W-wait, what are you–”

Valentino straddles Vincent while arching forward. Valentino cast a shadow over the CEO. He plays his fingers on the man's chest teasingly, attacking the first button of his shirt. Instantly, Vincent's body and cheeks burn as this incredibly hot and attractive individual is on his lap, pressing against him. Vincent's mind spirals as the remains by his side, terrified to move. This has never happened to him before.

"Room 66... ​​meet me there." Valentino says in a whisper, then he leans down completely and leaves a small kiss on Vincent’s cheek, chest against his. The action puts Vincent in a stupor. With strength he didn't know he had, he pushes against the stranger's warm, strong chest and stands up in a flurry, leaning over to grab his laptop in heist. Valentino lets out a small gasp of shock, sitting on the end of the deckchair. 

This can’t be happening to him right now! This only ever happens in those awful shitty porn pick up romcons!

"No- no! Nonono, oh no- thank you for the tempting offer- but I'm not looking for anything right now! Now, if... if you will excuse me.” 

The latino fixes his hair before shrugging. Valentino never experiences rejection often- but the man sees it as a challenge more than anything.

"My offer will last as long as I'm here, handsome.”

Vincent grimaces, before quickly taking his leave  from the most beautiful exotic creature he has ever met… with a sad, disgusting, pathetic semi hard on between his legs. He clutches the laptop close to his chest.

Valentino doesn’t like the attitude of this rich gentleman, while finding him extremely cute and childish. He doesn’t look like a virgin but acts like he is one… He stares at Vincent's departing figure as he stands up and heads towards his own room. He is dry now. He thinks he saw a glimpse of some effect in Vincent's crotch, but he left so quickly he isn’t sure. He needs a drink, and tonight, he will have one.

Vincent makes a quick beeline towards his hotel room. It’s one of the larger rooms, an executive suite. He feels the instant coolness from the air con grace his hot, sweaty and stuffy self. He needs a damn shower... and a cold one. 

Damn that man- He doesn’t have his name. Whatever… There is no question of him ever seeing this latino again, nor, God forbid, of him being tempted to go and look for his hotel room. Fuck no.

Vincent carefully places the laptop on the desk before placing his phone on charge. He enters the bathroom. The man avoids the mirror as he passes it. He begins to peel off his clothing in a hurried manner. Once naked, the CEO leans over to have the tap running at a cold temperature. Vincent steps in and gasps at the sharp coldness biting his skin, closing his eyes as he will away his semi hard on to go away.

The boner eventually disappears and Vincent wraps a towel around his shivering form, turning the air con off. He blows himself off before calling for some room service with a meal and a whisky.

Behind door 66, Valentino had put aside his swimsuit, taken a shower, and was now in a comfortable nightgown when the sun began to set. He has to get ready for a drink, where he is supposed to meet a man he had been able to chat with in the hotel lobby. He isn’t very interested, but there is money at stake... He wants to see this Vincent again, he wants money from this man and to find out what he is hiding in his pants, too. It’s in his bingo! To fuck a a famous superstar!

Vincent finishes the remaining Excel sheet as he drinks and eats on the desk, stretching. He's still lounging around in the fluffy night gown, pulled tight against his body to cover his ugly insecurities. It’s nearly 8pm.. Perhaps he will go to one of the many bars the resort has to offer.

The meal is almost finished. Vincent still struggles with his appetite and never could finish full meals. He always takes his time with it, picking at it as he cradles the whisky close. The man can’t stop thinking about that damn beautiful stranger. He hates it, how the man made his body react. He closes the laptop and finishes the remainder of his drink. The bar definitely sounds a lot more appealing now.

Vincent quickly dresses himself into a nice black, slender suit. He looks decent as he smothers a small crease before grabbing his phone and keycard for the room. Vincent isn’t one for drinking in public settings anymore, or going out in general anyway– but he is inside the hotel and if need be, if things got too much, he can just return to his hotel room and continue with room service. 

It’s nice being able to get out of that room sometimes…

When Vincent arrives at the bar while keeping to himself, it's thankfully not too busy, with classical music playing. He approaches the bar. It looks sticky, so he refuses to lean against it as he smiles small at the bartender.

“I’d like a double whisky, with ice.”

The woman nods, brushing a hair behind her ear as she makes way with his drink. Vincent idly pulls out his phone, checking a few emails that has just gone through. About fifteen minutes later, a few heads turn as Valentino enters the room arm in arm with a random man who seems neither famous nor particularly wealthy. His appearance gives off a nouveau-riche effect that is unbearable to look at and, above all, pitiful. 

On his arm is Valentino's hand, his nails painted red. His hair is down, his face powdered with makeup that makes his eyes stand out, and his lips painted red. He is wearing a sexy, low-cut black dress that reveals one of his thighs, and his flat torso, whose nipples are almost visible, but whose collar only reveals the gold chain that linked them together. Finally, on his feet, pretty red high heels. He smells of a fruity perfume, and the man who accompanies him tilts his head, whispers something in his ear, and Valentino laughs out of politeness. 

They move to a bench further away, a large hand landing on Valentino's bare thigh, which pressed a little closer to the man. He puts a hand on the back of the man's neck, talking to him in a low voice as a waiter goes to see them and takes their order. 

Valentino chooses that moment to look up at the room, falling on Vincent's back. He can’t see very well from a distance, but he thinks he recognises an unconfident attitude, and above all, an attempt to remain discreet. Vincent cradles his glass. The man chose to linger on at the bar so he wouldn't have to hopefully interact with anyone. The CEO is already on his second drink, slowly enjoying the atmosphere the bar has to offer as he asks the woman for a third double whisky.

Valentino stares at him, but his chin is tilted back by the man's hand, who frowns. Valentino then stops himself from looking at Vincent again.

"You're looking at me tonight, I didn't pay for you to avoid me," the man says in a harsher voice.

"Mh, I wasn't looking at someone..." Valentino says softly, stroking the broad chest. 

"Give me your card, I'll get us some drinks."

Vincent sighs as he leans his palm into his cheek, doom scrolling now on Instagram. He barely uses social media these days, it’s very much anxiety inducing- he has become the very word itself elusive. 

Vincent mutters “thanks” when the woman slides the drink over, attempting to make some small talk with him. She is petite, small, and has nice curves in all the right places with long curly brown hair.

“Where are you from, Sir?” She smiles, warm, kind. She almost reminds him of his ex wife.

“Chicago… have you… always worked here?” Vincent attempts to make small talk back, placing his phone face down momentarily.

“Mmm, for about five years, more or less... Are you here for a long time, Sir?” 

Valentino takes the bank card the man offers him between two fingers, leaning down, kissing his lips lightly before finally standing up with an elegant flourish and heading towards the bar. His heels click softly, he moves forward until he is standing next to Vincent. The young woman looks up at him; he is huge compared to her.

"Hey Doll, pour me a tall glass of whiskey and your best cocktail~ I want vodka in it. And peanuts on the side."

Vincent instantly recognises that voice, his head turning to meet the stranger he had met at the pool wearing more significant clothing. However, the man is… wearing a dress. It looks stunning on him, sending confusing signals to Vincent’s brain as he clutches onto his glass to ground himself.

“Oh... it's you...” Vincent mumbles, swallowing hard as he brings the glass to his lips and takes a healthy sip. Valentino lowers his chin and rests his butt on the bar stool, waiting for the drink. He crosses his legs.

"It's Valentino." He chuckles. He leans on the bar, the neckline of his dress so low-cut and open that Vincent can probably see his torso and the gold chain hanging between his two pectorals.

"You still don't want my company?"

Vincent's eyes catch the gold shining in the light as he lowers them, feeling his mouth go dry. Even the man's name sounds beautiful. Is it witchcraft? Vincent quickly directs his gaze towards Valentino's warm, teasing eyes that suggest more.

This gorgeous man is clearly only paying attention to him for his money... but yet, he persists despite his initial attempt. Vincent takes another swig of liquid, golden courage.

“I... Ahem, would– but not in the way you want.” Fuck, what is he saying? It has to be the alcohol talking now... Right? But he only had four double whiskeys!

Valentino smirks. 

"Why not do it the way you'd like it, then?" Valentino brings his face close to his ear. "I don't bite too much..."

Vincent feels his cheeks and neck begin to burn warm again. This man has such an awful effect on his body. Valentino notices that the alcohol is starting to get to Vincent's brain, while a large hand lands on his own thin shoulder, making him jump.

"Oy-"

"Come back here," the nouveau-riche man says, visibly angry.

"I'm waiting for our drinks~"

"You're wasting my money."

Vincent quickly whips his head around towards the sudden intruder. Who the fuck is this guy? Vincent's frown deepens as his eyebrows pinch together.

“Do you know this guy, Valentino?”

Valentino looks completely circumspect, playing off this question.

"Um... He, um, sent me to get the drinks because we're supposed to spend the evening together."

"I paid you for this, you bitch! And you're going to see another guy?!" The man yells, Valentino starting to get defensive.

"What's stopping me from chatting while the drinks arrive?"

How the fuck did Vincent end up even in this situation? The CEO sighs, noticing other people beginning to stare as the angry man continues to raise his voice.

“Look... calm down. This is just a huge misunderstanding, you are blowing this out of proportion." 

"Shut your mouth then, it's between me and that whore." The man says, looking down his nose at Vincent, while Valentino's arm is forcefully grabbed, making him let out a small cry.

"Hey, let go of me, I'll give you your money back, I don't want you after all-" Valentino pulls on his own arm. So, the man grabs his chin with his other hand, his face close to his. His breath smells of toothpaste, at least, but he's clenching his fingers tightly. 

"I paid, no refunds, you said so earlier."

Watching this domestic abuse churns Vincent's stomach just the wrong way– he has experienced this before... It’s a slap in the face as he feels his breath quicken. 

He feels compelled to step in. It has to be the alcohol and before the man can stop himself, Vincent clenches his fist and punches the man square in the nose, a loud crack following soon after. Valentino jumps suddenly, certainly not expecting Vincent to defend him, and especially not so violently. 

“Holy shit!” Someone shouts, somebody screaming that had Vincent's ears ringing. 

The man takes two steps back, enraged, and Valentino decides to intervene, among other things to prevent the man from disfiguring his next hookup... or sugar daddy. The man pushes Valentino to reach Vincent with wild rage.  

It’s enough to send Valentino into a rage, grabbing the hair on the back of the man's head. In his momentum, he manages to force him to bend forward, and digs his knee into his face. Vincent is too stunned to speak.

Everyone in the room begins to panic.

The man is definitely stunned, his nose bleeding, and he falls to the ground whimpering in pain like a child. Valentino gives a little "humph" and grabs Vincent's hand, throwing the money for the check onto the counter. But he wants to get as far away from this man as possible.

Vincent clumsily grabs his phone on the bar as Valentino grabs his hand. The woman behind the bar starts shouting for security. Fuck.

The surveillance cameras have certainly captured the initial interactions, but Valentino isn’t too worried; it was all self-defense. He leads Vincent to his own room, something to calm things down. He closes the door behind them.

"Sorry, Papi, I didn't think he was a raving lunatic," Valentino says, wiping his sweaty forehead. He opens the large bay window that leads to a balcony, to let in some fresh air, and takes a breath.

His bedroom is simple, with a large bed in the center and a small bathroom. It’s not one of the most luxurious. There is a pack of cigarettes on the only table in the room, another pair of shoes, an open suitcase with visible underwear and a few condoms.

Vincent allows himself to observe Valentino's room, the smell of his perfume and the undertones of sex evident. Vincent rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down as he feels sobriety during that ordeal. Vincent's hand aches as he rubs his nose.

He isn’t supposed to be in this room!

“Fuck, I need fucking drink and smoke...” 

Valentino lets the straps of his dress fall over his arms, revealing his torso as he makes himself comfortable before walking over to the small table. He takes out a small gold lighter and two cigarettes and hands one to him with a toothy smile.

Vincent's eyes are pulled to Valentino’s body as he reveals his strong torso, feeling anxiety prickle at his skin and nerves as Vincent shakily reaches for it.

"Here! I'm out of beers, though." Valentino lights his own cigarette with a flick of his thumb over the metal wheel of the lighter, creating a red spark. 

“Don’t worry about it, just call some to the room, and put it on my tab, I suppose.” He supposed it was better than being alone right now.

Vincent inhales deep, closing his eyes as he allows the smoke to fill his lungs. The smoke detector can go off for all he cares- he fucking needs this. Valentino then turns his head, blowing out thick smoke. He swings his stiletto heels close to the suitcase and they fall with a small clatter onto the carpet.

Vincent pulls out the air and opens his eyes. Valentino calls the bellhop. 

"Mmh, yeah, we need beers~ It's on Mr. Sterling's bill... Yes, he knows-”

Valentino is interrupted by Vincent, who doesn’t seem to agree. He places his hand on the telephone receiver.

“Mh?” 

“No! God, anything but beer! Whiskey, Vodka, anything but that!” Vincent quickly interferes, scandalized.

"Okay uh, a bottle of whiskey then… and a vodka, with lemonade! Thanks."

Valentino chuckles and hangs up. 

"Dramatic man. Well, make yourself comfortable, we have chairs on the balcony."

“I am not dramatic, I’m just stating facts that beer is dog fucking awful and whoever drinks it... well... shame on them!” Vincent huffs. Valentino walks past Vincent, starting to take off his dress and put on a pair of white pants. 

Vincent can’t help but stare once more, that feeling of anxiety filling his chest. He quickly avoids the gorgeous man before him and strides outside onto the balcony, into the warm summer night air. He inhales the cigarette deeply, before heavily sitting down on the seat with a sigh. He needs to calm the fuck down.

Valentino doesn’t care about being seen as Vincent disappeared into the balcony. He remains shirtless and there's a knock at the door two minutes later. He opens it and it's a man with a bottle and a glass of vodka lemonade.

"Ooh, thanks, babe.” Val grabs everything and closes the door before going to put the glasses and the bottle on the small table outside.

He sits as he joins Vincent, looking at the view from here. The ocean, the sound of the waves, the moon, a few clouds, and the city are still bustling despite the late hour… Then he turns his attention back to pouring Vincent a glass of whiskey. He has his own cigarette in his mouth. Vincent stares at the darkened sky that holds little to no stars, even as Valentino returns with his much needed drink. The man eagerly reaches for it, bringing the glass to his lips as he appreciates the slow burn down his throat. He closes his eyes.

Vincent can appreciate this, the calmness- if the man next to him is not so damn fucking attractive and shirtless. Vincent feels jealous.. maybe even self conscious. If Vincent had a flawless body like Valentino, he would have no shame in flaunting it.

Valentino strokes his upper torso in a continuous, disinterested motion, his drink in his hand and his cigarette now in the ashtray. He likes this calm. He'd wanted to fuck this man on his deck chair earlier, but now he is more interested in getting to know him. Maybe they'll fuck later, Valentino thinks. He takes a sip of his spirit and notices those peculiar mismatched eyes leering at his chest. 

"You're feasting your eyes. Are you sure you’re not even bisexual?" Valentino plays the golden chain on his chest, wrapping it around his finger as he stares at Vincent with a thin smile and mischievous eyes.

“I–” Vincent's voice gets caught in his throat at the lewd display, shaking his head as he adverts his gaze back to the view before him. 

“No. I'm not,” Vincent responds bluntly, very much in denial, before pulling the cigarette to his lips and taking a deep drag.

"You can look... I think it's cute. I'm not going to stop you. And besides, no shame here." The latino takes a sip. "I know I'm pretty to look at." Valentino moves his braids over one shoulder, crosses his legs and plays with his chain again.

Vincent sighs, Valentino is everything he used to be. Hot, attractive, charismatic, flirtatious with a clearly healthy sexual appetite. Everything Vincent is afraid of. 

“Thats a fucking understatement,” Vincent scoffs, tilting the rest of his drink back in one go. He leans forward to reach for the bottle.

A first compliment! Valentino smiles broadly and can’t help but feel proud of himself. Not gay, not bisexual, but Vincent finds him attractive.

"Tell me, Papi... We don't see you on screen much anymore, and we find you on vacation. Are you planning to stop presenting TV shows?" He is starting to get to the end of his glass, but he is holding alcohol well. Vincent, however, is staggering slightly.

Papi? It wasn't the first time Valentino had called him by that little nickname… Vincent doesn’t know what that means, but it sounds down right good as the man purrs flirtatiously. Fuck, fuck, this is bad.

Vincent feels his hand waver as he pours the bottle into the empty glass, cheeks burning warm– that can be from the alcohol though!

“Papi– what the fuck does that mean…? Plus– if you haven't noticed, which clearly you haven't…” Vincent places the bottle down, his words slowly starting to slur a little bit. “I haven't been on TV for the past three years.”

Valentino scoffs and then starts laughing. "Okay, okay, one thing at a time. So when I see you, it probably reruns then." 

Vincent frowns, he will probably have to sort that out when he gets back at home. It’s difficult getting a hold of other places, countries, using his programs to earn money from his shows– but he will have to crack it down somehow to stop copywriting.

Valentino puts down his glass, then stands up to lean closer to Vox, one hand on each arm of the chair. He does the same thing he did in front of that pool... He comes to whisper softly near Vox's ear.

"And 'Papi' means 'Daddy'..." His voice is warm, playful. "Or would you prefer me to say it in English? I'll say it the way you like it..."

Vincent's eyes widen as Valentino is so close again, once more, breathing hot and warm against his ear that had him blushing like a damn school girl. The whiskey glass trembles in his hold, his mind grinds to a halt. The cigarette drops to the floor; that luxurious voice does awful things to his body that makes his cock twitch. Nothing had made him hard for three years.

“I... no, no- Just Vincent- must you insist on invading my personal space?” Vincent stutters, feeling the latinos chain and piercings against his chest. Why isn’t he pushing Valentino away? What is happening to him?

Valentino chuckles against his ear. 

"But Papi is so pretty to hear, and Daddy is so good too, especially when I moan, I like to say Daddy..." He presses his chest against Vincent's, his hands venturing to Vincent's neck and caressing his skin, his mouth leaving a small kiss under his ear. He breathes his perfume, his smell... Oh he would do that for free, for Vincent...

Vincent shudders, head tilting back as goose bumps rise to his skin in a flourish. 

He can hear his voice of reasoning trying to sway him into the right direction. He has this anguish in his gut that burns his intestines, mixed with an old and repressed desire. 

But the alcohol and intoxication in his brain tell him that he could actually try to force himself to enjoy this moment and allow himself to do so.

Vincent brings the rest of the drink to his lips to quench the voices inside of his head, placing the glass down on the table top. He can do this.. When could something like this ever happen again? 

Vincent's exposed throat is the perfect landing strip for Valentino's mouth, which first gently kisses the soft flesh. He quickly shifts gears, now licking, both hands on his pecs. He moves to the other side of his neck, moving down to his collarbones and shoulder. He finally sits down on the man's lap.

"Mhn..." Valentino sighs in comfort against his skin.

“Ah...” Vincent moans, soft, quiet, almost barely audible as Valentino touches him in all the right places, shifting. He tries to discreetly hide his ever growing reaction. Fuck, he is actually doing this...! 

Valentino likes to get what he wants quickly, but Vincent touches something inside him. He doesn't want to ruin everything... He strokes his chest slowly, paying careful attention to his neck as his thumbs search for his nipples through the thin fabric. Finding them, he smirks, rubbing them gently, patiently, while noticing that Vincent is hiding his erection.

He comes back up to his ear. "You're allowed to get hard, Papi..."

“Oh, fuck.” Vincent gasps, trembling all over. He feels too hot, too incredibly hot to be wearing the suit- but he could never take it off. 

He doesn’t deserve any kind of pleasure from this beautiful, gorgeous man on his lap- not with his disgusting body.

Valentino can't help but bite his lip, the man's reactions surpass his wildest fantasies. Making a man like that moan... His thumbs continue to harden the little bits of flesh, making them so sensitive. He then begins to unbutton the shirt, increasingly excited at the idea of ​​running his tongue over one of the nipples and making the man moan just by doing that. And damn, he feels so hard in his pants…

Vincent opens his eyes wide as he feels Valentino fumble for his button, quickly grasping his slender wrist as he shakes his head.

“N-no, dont– I want my clothes to stay on-” Vincent's voice slurred, confidence wavering. He stares into Valentino's concerned, caring eyes. It makes Vincent's cold heart do crazy backflips. 

"Uh?" Valentino pouts in surprise. However, Vincent's almost panicked eyes make him understand. 

"Alright handsome, I'll do it another way..." Valentino says softly, kissing the corner of Vincent’s mouth. 

He moves his pelvis back slightly so he can lean into his chest, and his tongue presses against the thin fabric of the shirt, so thin that his saliva penetrates the fabric quite quickly, and even though the garment separates them, he knows how it feels for Vincent. And that makes Valentino even harder. His hands grab his hips, and there he is, sucking on the poor nipple covered in his saliva.

It surprises Vincent– Valentino could have stopped there and then. He wants sex for money, doesn't he? But he continues regardless, compromising Vincent. He can feel himself slowly relaxing again once more, mouth parting open as his other nipple is played with, whimpering. He finds his hands going towards the man's braids, grabbing them without thought. Valentino lets out a small moan, encouraged by that hand. 

The sensitive nipple is abandoned for the second, soaking the shirt with saliva on the other side. He doesn’t leave the first one alone, however, playing with his thumb on it while he makes the other harden. 

"Mnh, does Papi like it?..." Valentino blows on the saliva stain, causing a cold sensation. Shit, the guys he fucked never made a noise and now this one was moaning? Fuck, too hot. Valentino can't help but press his hips against Vincent's thigh.

Vincent grits his teeth as pressure is finally applied to his crotch area, gasping once again. He not so subtly starts to hump against Valentino's leg. There is only one thing on Vincent's mind right now and that is to cum, he can’t think about anything else. 

“Yes, yeees...!” Vincent hisses, arching his back. The alcohol clouds his mind totally.

Desperate, that is the word Valentino is looking for regarding Vincent. He moves his hips forward, slowly, stopping touching his nipples to wrap his arms around his neck. This allows him to undulate his pelvis against his comfortably, coming to kiss Vincent with small touches. 

"That's it, let yourself moan Papi, you're so hot..." It’s the first time he has done something so simple but also so horny. Valentino also begins to moan slightly, his erection against Vincent's, both covered.

"So sensitive... ah..." 

Vincent's hands trail down against Valentino’s slender waist, to his perky ass cheeks. His moans become heightened with each passing second. But, Vincent's full body trembles, his back arching. He feels the old familiar feeling come suddenly crashing down on him as he comes with a loud shout suddenly, staining his underwear and inside his pants for the first time in three, long years of pent up stress. 

A wet stain patch grows. Vincent pants with each laboured breath. He feels himself sinking. Valentino continues to move his pelvis, he's not far away now, but he didn't think Vincent would come so quickly. He comes to kiss him, holding his cheeks, whispering quickly, 

"Hnn Papi, please, keep your hands on me… I-I’m so close-" The front of his pants has a small stain, he feels... damp. Fuck, that's so rare.

What has he done? Vincent shudders as his hands pull away from Valentino's ass. The reality of the situation takes him as a storm. 

What the fuck had he done? He feels disgusting, gross, vile.

His vision blurs, wet tears at the corner of his eyes -how pathetic– Crying in front of a stranger no less! Vincent can’t even find his voice to tell the man to stop, sucking in a harsh breath.

Why and how can he allow this? Vincent feels dirty.

The taller man's hips begin to slow, and he is disturbed by the lack of feeling of his hands, so Valentino lets out a plaintive moan. 

"Why stop?..." He gasps softly, painfully hard, his eyes locked with his. Then he notices the tears and frowns, straightening. 

"Am I that bad?" he asks, confused.

Vincent shakes his head. Valentino has been great, amazing even- but it was also this beautiful man's fault if he has been tempted.

“N-no,” Vincent sucks in through his teeth, unable to look into Valentino’s confused filled eyes as the tears rolled down his cheeks, lips wobbling. His voice cracks pathetically. He can’t control his own damn emotions in front of others.

“It’s- not you, it's me,” Vincent whispers, lowering his head in shame. A man like him should never show this much emotion!

Valentino looks at Vincent in disbelief. He stands up slowly, forgetting his erection for a moment. He's cried like this before, in his life, after an orgasm, so... He helps Vincent up and takes him to sit on the bed. He closes the bay window. He walks over and strokes his back.

"It's okay." He wipes away a tear and sits down next to him. He's never met a guy his age cry, though... 

"Do you want to take a shower...? Or should I take you back to your room? Or you can sleep here, if you want, Papi."

Valentino feels almost stupid, still feeling the sensations of his orgasm in his lower abdomen, and listening to Vincent's sobs. Vincent tugs on the strands of his hairs as he sits onto Valentino's bed, the tears stubborn and unyielding as an uncomfortable wetness rests between his legs.

Vincent releases a shuddering breath.

“I want to go back to my room…” A statement- Vincent can’t even find himself looking towards Valentino's direction as he abruptly stands up. He can’t even stand Valentino's touch for much longer.

“It’s fine– I'll make my own way back-”

Such rejection- Valentino is speechless. He stares at Vincent with a bewildered, yet somewhat hurt and pained expression. So he stands up and opens the door without saying a word, eager to just take a shower and forget this whole mess. Vincent wipes away the tears from his face before he steps out of the room, not even sparing Valentino a glance before the man disappears into the hallway. Thankfully Vincent runs into no one at the elevator with his embarrassing wet patch between his legs and quickly disappears into his room of shame.

Vincent tears off his clothes and steps into the shower to get rid of the evidence of what had happened, sobbing in the cubicle as water rolled off his body. Vincent looks down at his body, littered with scars that criss-crossed over to one another. There is no area of skin that wasnt blemished with his knife, but the worst part is the deep engraving of Alastor’s fucking name sliced into his abdomen, near his pelvis that has fully healed into something ugly– Vincent’s vision blurs as he punches the wall with a wet thud.

The man proceeds to dig his nails into his skin, tensing. He leaves red welts. As if he could remove the scars. He growls with frustration and fear, sobbing more intensely under the water.

Alastor has fucking ruined his life. He couldn't enjoy anything, what was the point of living anymore? Vincent slides down the floor with a choked sob, shoulders shaking and trembling as the water rolls off his body. He shivers despite the water’s warmth and he pulls his knees close to his body. He cries like a fucking baby.

A brutal, self-centered anger had seized Valentino, who had gone to bed after a shower, a quick, unsatisfying handjob, his brain fried with rage. A man had not only come, but had pushed him away like a common sock even though he loved what he had done to him! What kind of asshole was that?!

Valentino blows smoke and grumbles, his phone on the bed immediately receives a notification from a guy at the hotel who wants a blowjob. Valentino is so annoyed that he gives him an insane price, which the other guy accepts. 

"Uurrghh…"

But it will be money that will compensate him a little for his stay, and will make him forget this stupid Vincent, he can fuck some other famous guy.

Eventually Valentino falls asleep, despite the incredibly frustrated and angry wank, as much as Vincent had fallen asleep, the water still running late into the night on his tired body.

★

The door slowly opened and the darkness slowly poured in light that made Vincent squint. The chain above Vincent stirred, he roused from his oppression, sinking in and out of consciousness. What was he waiting for? Waiting for Alastor. He was finally here.

Vincent held his breath, everywhere ached. His mouth was dry, he felt frail, lost- how long had Alastor left him down here with nothing, darkness, his own thoughts and his ever growing hunger that drove him insane.

“A... Al...” Vincent's voice croaked because of all that screaming, begging and crying- anything to get Alastor’s attention certainly did a number on his vocal chords. 

Vincent winced as the light suddenly poured in and invaded his eyes from the swinging light bulb above. Vincent flinched, causing him to swing a little from being suspended… he couldn't feel his arms and legs anymore. 

It seemed Alastor wasn't in a good mood. His dark figure approached Vincent, his arm held close to his body and the outline of a knife blade visible. He glanced at Vincent, as if remembering he existed in his cellar. Vincent spotted the knife in Alastor's hand, glistening menacingly that had Vincent's blood running cold. The man whimpered, was Alastor here to finally put him out of his misery?

"Oh dear, you're in such a state..."

Alastor placed his hand on Vincent's lower abdomen, feeling Vincent’s skin shiver, tracing small patterns on his pubic area. 

"You know… I've had an idea..."

Vincent bit his lip, his skin cold against the hands warmth as those teased with his pubes. He stared into Alastor's cold, dead eyes as his body responded naturally towards the attention, despite not wanting it. The sensation was pleasant against his skin, but finding himself alone, with only the cold and the metal digging into his wrists for company, made him crave warmth… human contact.

“H-huh?” Vincent responded dumbly. With the knife out of sight, it was easy to forget that Alastor wielded it. 

Lips pressed against Vincent's emaciated stomach, against a few still-scabbed scars, kissing slowly, very gently below his navel. Astonishing. He left a simple trail of kisses, and then his tongue decided to join the game. It moved from left to right, seemingly tracing imaginary letters. His hand, holding the knife, rested on Vincent’s thigh, the wooden handle against his skin.

“Mh…” Alastor breathed slowly, taking his sweet time.

Vincent's eyes rolled at the back of his head. Oh, fuck… Heat pooled between Vincent's legs almost instantly. Alastor's lips and tongue touched his body, his thighs squirming and he released a soft and shameful moan.

“A… Al?” Vincent whimpers, feeling dazed.

There was a sudden and brutal bite between the inside of Vincent's thigh when hearing his first name. 

"Sir, not Al." Alastor corrected, looking Vincent in the eyes.

“O-ow!” Vincent gasped, his body jumping and thighs quivering as Alastor's teeth pulled away, pulling his skin taught before releasing it. Vincent whimpered, feeling the area thrum and ache as a wetness slowly rolled down his thigh. 

“I-I’m sorry, s-sir,” Vincent slumped. He should fight more but Vincent couldn't physically or mentally do it. He felt so weak... he couldn't think or articulate properly to fight back and defend his pride, honour and dignity. He just wanted to get out of this cell, his prison. The better way to do that is to please Alastor, just like he did before… This time, it’ll work, right?

"If you need to say my name so much, I'll make sure you don't forget it..." Alastor licked the bite mark. He stared at Vincent's erection, which is pointing right in front of his nose. He chuckled with a slight look of disgust..

Vincent bit the inside of his cheek as he lowered his head, eyelashes fluttering as Alastor stared at his cock with amusement. Vincent's cheeks flushed. He squeezed his thighs together... Vincent couldn't help but think, despite the slow process, that Alastor had a more ulterior thought than what he was suggesting with his eyes.

The knife reappeared in his field of vision.

Vincent buzzed with anxiety, he stared at the knife, chest rising and falling with each passing second Alastor left him in silence only to have him think of horrible thoughts. Was Alastor going to chop off his dick and slowly torture him to death?!

Vincent paled, whimpering.

“P-please sir, d-don’t do this... I- I will...” Vincent coughed, his voice croaky and sore with its lack of use. 

“I’ll d-do anything... p-please!” Vincent begged, hoping it appeased Alastor – why was he doing this to him?

"Do what?" Alastor had no idea what Vincent was imagining until he realized that the knife near his erection could be very unsettling. The killer let out a burst of laughter at the realization, forced to bend forward under the force of his uncontrollable giggling.

"O-Oh shit! You thought I was going to...?! Oh damn-"

Vincent’s eyebrows pinched in confusion as Alastor laughed at him, making him feel like a stupid fucking idiot. He closed his eyes, wanting to disappear as he was stunned into humiliation.

What the hell?

"You have some amusing ideas... I admit I've already thought about it. But I was thinking more along the lines of..." The blade rose to his lower abdomen, the tip pressing into the flesh without piercing it, and with a swift movement, he traced the first stroke of the letter A. A large rivulet of blood formed and dripped down.

Vincent moaned of pain and tensed, the cut burning him as his body jerked causing the chains above to rattle. The pressure Alastor used on the knife was subliminal, enough to carve into the skin that felt like a hot poker being burned into his skin. It was as if he was drawing with his knife, just only using the tip as blood slowly swelled to the surface.

Vincent was panting quickly, squirming to get away but it only made it hurt more. 

“Owww, fuck–” Vincent whined, body spasming against his will. He sucked in a harsh breath of air. Vincent's writhing body made Alastor laugh for a moment. He licked the blade and waited for the man to calm down a little. 

"We haven't finished the first letter." The first letter? Vincent felt his legs pressed together, squeezed by the vise-like grip of Alastor's arm, and the tip of the blade continued to engrave the end of the letter A into the flesh. The skin was thin. Alastor looked at his work so far and licked the wounds.

Vincent’s eyes watered, relief arrived when the knife was pulled back and the man was panting loudly, head down, and he was undeniably limp between the thighs now.

Alastor's blood-covered lips curved into a smile. He repositioned the knife and carved the letter L. Shit. The groans of pain aroused him... but so did the taste of blood. Yet he did nothing. More blood flowed. Vincent looked like an animal being bled dry.

To recreate another letter A, he pressed a little harder, dangerously harder, and the tip of the blade entered the muscle.

Vincent's body jerked, a sharp cry falling from his lips as the burning sensation intensified. Vincent breaked down, sinking deeper into a madness that Alastor created so perfectly to destroy him. 

"Darling, if you move, your guts will spill out..."

Big, wet fat tears rolled down Vincent's cheek. He stared up at the ceiling and the peeling paint. The chains rattled with stress as Vincent choked on a loud sob that didn't even sound like himself. There was a particularly sensitive area Alastor's knife that sinked into made Vincent scream, back arching and a wave of dizziness and nausea struck him.

“P-please, p–please make it stop!” Vincent begged, hoping to appease the monster. Vincent gasped and sobbed as Alastor's knife carved into him like paper... blood poured from the wounds, trailing down his thighs and dripping from his big toe.

Drip, drip, drip.

"There are four letters left," Alastor stated, beginning with the S. The sinuous shape of the letter made the gesture long. Then the T. He really took his time with the O, making sure not to mess up that shape… Vincent's eyes rolled back, his toes curling as his mouth hung open as he whimpered or groaned, the sensation becoming unbearable. 

Suddenly Vincent's body slumped like dead weight, completely unresponsive.

Alastor occasionally licked the blood, letting out a low moan, ready to bite into his raw flesh, but he quickly restrained himself. He had to let his work heal first. Then finally the R. But upon seeing the A and L from the beginning again, he ran the blade over the bloody carvings. 

"I should have pressed harder… It needs to look nice once it's healed.”

He raised his head and stared at Vincent, who was no longer moving. Alastor took a few steps back, admiring his work with a wry smile. 

"You are mine. Who would want a man like that anyway…” Alastor murmured disdainfully.

★

Vincent arouses with a raging hangover, who knows what fucking time it was. He groans, slowly sitting up, the lights hurting his eyes. Last night's incident comes back to him.

Valentino's touches, Valentinos grinding, his hot body and then, after his own orgasm, he fucking cried. Vincent drags a hand over his face. How fucking mortifying. Vincent can’t help it though. His body had wanted it yet he had not. He hates sex but alcohol made his guard lowered down. He shamefully realizes that, deep down, he had desired it. Between the waves of his anxieties, the storms of his doubts, and the cyclones of his traumas.

What kind of witchcraft spell had Valentino put on him?! Despite the throbbing headache and the subtle need to throw up, Vincent turns his head into his pillow, screaming with frustration. 

Even if by some fucking miracle even if he wanted to approach Valentino again, this pretty man would never want to see Vincent again after that catastrophe! Vincent could never face that beautiful, devilish man ever again. He had to keep away from him, for his own sanity… Nobody has ever managed to get that close or even touch Vincent like that since fucking Alastor.

Vincent purses his lips and turns his head so he could breathe, his fingers brushing against his lips as he could still feel the phantom feeling of those warm, confident lips against his own with no judgment whatsoever… fuck.

Vincent sighs, the nausea subsiding a little. He slowly sits up from his bed, hair tussled and messy. Food and water will surely cure this headache… Vincent glances at the golden Rolex on his watch, it’s 12p.m. Shit. If he recalls they had all day breakfast… Sunnyside eggs on toast sounded rather appetizing. It’s  rare for Vincent to feel positive towards food, but he knows he needs it with his business to run… though there were many times he had caught himself purposefully skipping meals. 

Vincent stretches, muscles popping as he drags himself out of bed. Vincent approaches his wardrobe with all his suits and casual clothes hanging up pressed and steamed. All of the shirts were all long sleeved, of course. The CEO picks out a simple black shirt and pants, with a belt and a deep blue waist coat. He then makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, brushing and combing back his wild hair with slick gel with a little curl that framed his face nicely. And finally, a little bit of makeup to cover the scar under his cheek bone. With some cologne behind his ears and wrists, Vincent can almost forget that he has a hangover to begin with. Before he could look too closely and sour his mood, the CEO turns away, leaving the room, phone and keycard on hand.

Vincent approaches the elevator and arrives at the lobby of the main restaurant and approaches the waiter who is a short man with brown locks that smiles warmly at him.

“How many for your table, Sir?”

“Just the one.” Vincent replies and he is taken to a seat by a large window facing one of the large many pools the resort had to offer. There's quite a lot of people around and the noise of people is loud.

A man comes out of Room 66, buttoning his pants, whistling quietly while Valentino inside smokes yet another cigarette. He is still very angry. He furiously counts the bills in the wad of cash the man had left behind. A hundred dollars.

"Urgh." His head falls back on the pillow, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Fucker."

Slowly, he gets out of bed and opens the bay window. It's a sheet-changing day, so he does it with the souvenir of Vincent's body beneath his, screaming for more in mind. Then, big tears, terror in his eyes, and a sudden escape. Even though he had fucked a man last night, he hadn't fucked the one he wants, the only one he wants here.

He places all the sheets in front of his door for the hotel maid to remake the bed.

"Unbelievable."

Valentino is going to take a shower and wants to dress more casually. He doesn’t want to wear a dress today. Trousers, a slightly tight shirt and an elegant pair of heels on his feet. He examines his braids, he'll have to redo them soon. But for now, what matters is going to the restaurant, spending his loot, and getting the best dish on the menu.

Vincent has his sunnyside egg on toast with a dark black coffee steaming in front of him. It looks damn well delicious and Vincent is genuinely looking forward to it. It looks cooked to perfection.

“Thank you, that will all.” Vincent says to the waiter with a nod, bringing the large coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip, sighing. He closes his eyes. He can forget about this Valentino guy, it’s just one slip up. A mistake that he never intends to make again... Valentino had taken advantage of him while he was drunk, yes, that’s what happened. A blow to his manly pride that would go to his grave, but it's not the first time it has happened. 

Hopefully, he will never have to see him again. The resort is so big, after all.

Vincent tries hard to not think about it, he should try to enjoy this moment and not dwell on the past. But who the fuck is he kidding? He can’t even enjoy the simplest things in life and live in the moment. Vincent frowns, lowering the cup to the table and staring at his reflection in the dark liquid. He can’t let history repeat itself.

Valentino enters the restaurant with a confident stride, his hips swaying elegantly, as he is greeted by a waiter. He notices that Vincent is there too, straight away. His eyes widen, offended. It's as if Vincent isn’t allowed in the restaurant.

"Sir, may I seat you at a table?" The waiter speaks, bringing Valentino back to reality. He still seems outraged.

"Yes, I'd like to sit with that gentleman over there; we know each other."

He is led to the said table. Valentino's brows are furrowed, betraying his wounded pride from last night. He abruptly places his buttocks on the chair opposite Vincent's, crossing his legs immediately afterward. Vincent looks up in confusion, who– His mouth draws into a grim line, brows pinched as Valentino sat opposite him. Vincent straightens up, immediately put in his defenses. That man is still so godly beautiful, it’s not even fucking fair.

“Are you stalking me now?” Vincent growls under his breath, spiteful. 

Valentino gives a small, annoyed laugh.

"Uhh, we're in the same hotel?" He looks away, his frown deepening.

Vincent’s flush a deep angry red as he grabs his fork despite his lack of appetite now, stabbing it into the yolk and watching it bleed into the whites.

“Ugh– whatever.” Vincent grumbles.

"You know what? You're going to pay for my meal." Valentino says decisively, arms crossed and back leaning against the back of the chair. He lifts his chin expectantly.

“Excuse me?” Vincent looks up, expression incredulous as the fork scraped loudly against the fine plate. 

“Why the hell would I pay for your meal?” Vincent hisses through his teeth, voice raising a bit.  Vincent doesn’t understand why Valentino goes so under his skin. They are so opposite, so different, but above all, Valentino seems so proud of himself, the complete opposite of him...

The latino man looks at his nails as he listens to the CEO start to raise his voice.

"I didn't come last night, it's not fair."

“I- so what?!” Vincent’s blush darkens. They were in public and talking about an incident Vincent would much rather forget. Of course, a man like Valentino would have no shame bringing it up. Fucking whore.

"I've been nice to you, Papi… You can thank me like this..." Valentino says softly, leaning his elbows on the table, both hands under his chin supporting his head. His eyelashes flutter as he smiles broadly, his gold tooth gleaming in the artificial light. Vincent’s throat goes dry. Why hadn’t he noticed that golden tooth last night? The man jerks back, shaking his head.

“No! No- fuck- no!” Vincent slams his fists against the table, the utensils shaking from the force. Vincent notices some heads turning as his voice raises higher, taking in a deep angry breath in. He glares at Valentino’s stupid, beautiful, tempting face while trying to calm himself down. 

“I said no, damn it. What happened between us was a fucking mistake. You only want me for my damn money and you are barking up the wrong tree.” Vincent growls in warning.

Valentino's eyes are widening

"I did it because I wanted you, not for your money- I was expecting some fucking reciprocity." It’s Valentino’s turn to raise his voice. For once, he'd been sincere in his approach! For once, he'd wanted to satisfy someone out of attraction and not profit! And he is getting that.

“Oh, wow!” Vincent starts sarcastically and sounds down right mean, laughing at Valentino through his teeth. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all your men before you crawl into bed with them. I know a whore when I see one.”

Valentino feels a ball of rage swell as he listens. He isn’t ashamed of his practice, but he couldn't bear to see someone he had truly desired belittle him like this. It only takes a second for his body to rise and his hand to land violently in Vincent's face. Vincent’s head snaps to the side, stars dancing behind his vision with the impact, his ears ringing and his cheek absolutely stings as silence falls into the restaurant. Valentino’s breathing is rapid, and he quickly brings his fists back to his sides, his chest heaving. 

"You're REALLY a self-centered, rich ASSHOLE, and frankly, I should have taken all your fucking money when I had the chance instead of making a fool of myself like this- I don't work for free!"

Vincent’s mind halts, the fork clattering to the table as he tries to process what had just happened. He had… just gotten slapped in the face. Vincent grimaces, his hand raising slow to a throbbing cheek that will be sure to bruise. The CEO finally breathes, not realizing he had been holding his breath to begin with. Vincent supposes he had taken the comment rather far but he is a man who wouldn't go back on his word, but has he deserved that? Probably.

Vincent has lost his appetite completely now as the chair slowly scrapes against the floorboards. 

Even if on some alternate timeline that Vincent hadn’t been kidnapped, abused and used by Alastor, perhaps he would have been all over Valentino, worshipping his fucking feet like the goddess he truly is and giving that man whatever he desired with every beck and call... But, Vincent isn’t that man anymore.

The CEO reaches within his waist coat a hidden pocket and pulls out a couple of hundred bills, placing them on the table. He finally looks at Valentino with defeat, a look he probably would have given to Alastor, without a single trace of anger.

“For your wonderful time. Now stay the fuck away from me.” Vincent says before he walks away, the crowd slowly turns into a low murmur with different conversations starting about what had just happened.  

"Yeah, thanks, you fucking cunt." Valentino spits as he watches the figure walk away, sitting back down as he can finally breathe.

Valentino’s palms are sweaty and his heart is pounding. His stomach is twisting. He's staring at the money, shoving it into his pockets without hesitation. The waiter finally comes to ask him what he wants to eat, and he orders a greasy burger to compensate for all the emotions he doesn’t like feeling.

Valentino still feels the warm sensation of the slap in the palm of his hand while he eats; he even keeps it when he leaves the restaurant to go to the pool.

But first, he has to change into his swimsuit, so he goes back to his room. He counts the bills absently; there are $600. What the fuck, this guy really just wanted to get rid of him for good... His feet drag on the carpet.

When he closes his eyes, he sees Vincent twisting, moaning, his eyes full of pleasure, whining but also filled with a hint of worry. Urg... No man had ever looked at him like that ever. And it arouses Valentino. He opens the door to his room, hides the bills under his clothes in the suitcase. The sheets were changed. Maybe he wants a nap after all.

He is still so angry... But he has plenty of money! He is quite proud of this domestic scene, even though Vincent's words echoed in his head. He wants to piss this man off a little more.  Valentino can’t believe his charms aren’t working on Vincent, especially not when he saw him blushing and stammering.

Lying on his bed, he thinks about it and slides both hands up his thighs.

"Fuck..." He stares at his crotch, at the bulge in his now too-tight pants. A carnivorous grin and he's pulling his pants down to his thighs, wrapping a firm hand around his erection. He sighs through his teeth, thank goodness his hand is there to relieve all the tension.

It will probably never be Vincent's hand, or his mouth, or his ass- He licks his fingers, runs his other hand under his pelvis, brushing his slender fingers against his entrance. He bites his lip as the other moves up and down along his shaft, drawing long sighs, then moans from him.

"Ha..."

He slides in with a first finger, quickly followed by a second, lowering his eyebrows. Behind his eyelids, a fantasy image of Vincent grabbing his throat, thrusting roughly inside him, fucking him properly.

"Hn… Papi...~" But it's his fingers that only manage to barely replace what he dreams about. His skin is covered in shivers, he feels his hips moving on their own to satisfy the little ball of pleasure swelling in his lower abdomen.

Vincent is back to his room with a sigh before he flops onto his bed and drapes an arm over his face. What a fucking disaster... What should he even do now? He completed the rota for his employees for the next three months. He’s got absolutely fuck all to do. He’s already worked far advanced into the schedule for what needed to be done with his colleagues. 

What the fuck people do while on vacation? Vincent just wants to go back home and drown himself in more work he can’t actually do remotely and forget about Valentino... his hand slowly raises to his still, very much stinging cheek, hissing. It hurt like a fucking bitch. Valentino really hadn’t held back, had he?

Nothing works, the orgasm doesn’t want to come, even after 30 minutes. Valentino lets out a frustrated sob. What is happening to him? He grabs his phone and quickly types a message to the man he'd seen the day before. He writes that he is so fucking horny, that he needs it now, and that he doesn’t care if he isn’t being payed.

Of course, he receives a positive response, and Valentino straightens up, puts his clothes back on, and leaves his room to join the man in a small reading room that no one in the hotel frequented because it’s too far from the pool, the restaurant, or the casino. It’s a room with a large window overlooking the sea, facing a large bookcase with armchairs and small tables.

The blond he is looking for is there, and Valentino half-throws himself on him, shuddering and pinning him to a shelf.

"Want you..." Valentino whispers between wet kisses.

No, he wants Vincent, but Vincent doesn't want him. The man gently grabs him by the throat, forces him to kiss him, and Valentino runs his hand over his crotch, growling.

"Is doing it in public that does this to you, hm?" Valentino murmurs, touching the, making him hard.

Vincent really can’t stay in his room all day now. Sure he can, but he doesn’t want to. He still has that new book to read he bought while he was in the airport. Vincent sits up and grabs it from inside of his suitcase. He knows there is some sort of reading lounge nearby; somewhere quiet, peaceful out of mind and out of place. 

It sounds like a decent plan for now, nothing too crazy. Vincent leaves his room and makes his way back down again and has to ask the receptionist where the reading lounge is. It’s a bit of a walk, but that is fine. He walks through the bars, pool and the casino– something he might look into later on. He hasn’t done much gambling in his life, but he has too much free time on his hands now. 

Vincent arrives at the automatic doors of the lounge. It’s not very busy; not a lot of people walked this far during the hottest hour of the day. He enters the room. Hearing a noise, the two men move behind the bookcase. 

It’s nice and cozy, like a small library inside the building with shelves lined up the wall. Vincent sighs, feeling himself relax a little bit as he sits down on one of the black leather sofas facing the window. 

Soft jazz music plays and it unsettles him, but he can’t do much about it. He hates Jazz. He crosses his foot over his leg, opening the first page of the book that is a bit of slice of life and mystery that had been on his wishlist for awhile. 

Valentino is facing the books, his hands gripping the edge of a shelf and a large hand over his mouth. His back is arched, he is moaning quietly and slowly. The man is fingering him. His pants are around his ankles, obscene whispers in his ear, and his head is spinning. 

"Shhh... You don't want him to hear you baby..." the man whispers, pressing on his prostate with the tip of his fingers. Valentino can’t see who is there and it’s not his fucking problem. He feels his legs tremble, letting out a small, uncontrolled moan of pleasure. Shit- The palm over his mouth presses harder, the two fingers make his prostate even more good and Valentino rolls his eyes upward, panting. This is what he fucking needed.

Vincent raises a sharp brow. He turns on his elbow at the sound of whispering from the back of the room. He has assumed he is alone and didn’t realize there was more seating around the corner. Whatever, they can whisper for all they want, as long as Vincent can continue reading his book. The CEO turns his attention back to his book, flipping over on another page with his fingers.

"Good boy..." The man says, suddenly pulling his fingers out of Valentino's, just before he comes. This guy is having fun- He's moved onto an armchair, kneeling against the back. Valentino turns his head towards the man who still has the blue mark from Vincent's punch. He wants to laugh about it, but it will make too much noise. 

The man opens his pants, takes out a sizable cock and presses the tip against Valentino's entrance, who moves his buttocks temptingly. Fuck, imagine it's Vincent- 

"Take me, Papi~..." That's all it takes for Valentino to feel everything enter him. "F-fffuck, Papi...!" Valentino whispers louder, leaning over the back of the chair in a gasp.

Vincent's brow furrows into confusion, again... those noises certainly don’t sound like conversation anymore. Gasps… and moans? Vincent turns pale, then his cheeks take on a rosy color as he swallows his saliva forcefully. What has he just walked into?

It takes every effort for Valentino not to moan openly. He grabs his mouth with both hands, arching his back, tears of pleasure in the corners of his eyes. The man's hips move divinely. No, it's Vincent who fucks him. He's the one holding his hips so tightly. 

"Papi, fuck, m-mmh!" 

The man leans forward. "You take me so well, did you prepare yourself before arriving? It goes in all by itself." 

Valentino nods quickly. With trembling thighs, he receives each thrust with little moans of ecstasy.

Vincent shifts uncomfortably as he continues to listen in, heat creeping to that disgusting part of his body that he can’t seem to control. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why isn’t he leaving? Surely they know he is here. Vincent clenches his fists, drawing in a sharp breath as he tries to listen despite the unsettling Jazz music playing above.

Valentino can't hold it in any longer, his voice begins to carry and echo in the room. He moans with every thrust of the hips against his ass. 

"Hnnn! P-Papi, ah, ah- Please-" Valentino feels so close to cumming. He turns his head a little, his eyes clouded with pleasure. "C-can I cum- P-please- M'so close...!"

The man leans down and nibbles his neck. "Mmh, I don't know..." the man grunts, making their skin smack together harder and harder.

“Please-”

Vincent’s eyes widen, that voice he recognizes. It’s Valentino's. Fuck. He should leave– Vincent grasps onto the leather seat with his nails, as the sounds of this love making and sex fill the room. Vincent can’t breathe. His head feels light. Valentino’s moans go straight to his dick and it sickens him. 

He is a pervert, a freak, a disgusting man– What the fuck is wrong with him? 

A hand grabs Valentino’s aching erection, squeezing it at its base, and Valentino lets out a frustrated sob. He undulates his hips, trying to satisfy the man, forbidden to come. 

"P-please, please, I wanna cum... please..." He could have cried. It’s torture. The man turns him over on the armchair, leaning over his trembling body, one knee on the seat for balance, and he thrusts into him again. Valentino grips his shoulders painfully.

“Fuck- Papi p-please-”

“Shut up baby….”

“Nnh…” Valentino complains.

The ache between Vincent’s legs strain against his pants and he can’t stand it, he hates it- but he needs it. He had told Valentino to fuck off and never see him again, and yet here he is getting an erection listening to him have sex with another man. Vincent pulls on his hair, chewing his bottom lip as he fights with himself, while the sound of slap of skin grows louder.

Valentino can’t stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, it’s so good but so frustrating. 

"Hnngh... gonna c-cum... m'gonna cum..." He repeats, but the man grips his erection very tightly. He rolls his eyes back, his whole body shaking in a brutal, dry orgasm. 

"Fuck, fuck, ah- D-don't stop-" The man groans in need, but holds his chin as he redoubles his thrusts. 

"Bad boy, I told you not to cum..."

Valentino looks exhausted but teasing. "Mm’sorry Papi~ please give me another chance..."

Vincent’s head stares up at the ceiling as he prays for a nonexistent God to have mercy. He can hear everything now- they must have assumed he had left. Vincent loves how Valentino’s voice sings with pleasure, but not that man’s. Vincent feels… jealousy? That can’t be the right word.

The man leans over Valentino and kisses him. They're silent for a moment, then he straightens up and pulls away. Valentino sees him sit down on an armchair, and he gets up with shaky legs, coming to sit on his knees. Valentino turns his back on him, feels his erection sink in even more as it's now his turn to move. He bites his lip. 

"Ride me properly to make it up to you... And this time, you hold back." 

"Yes Papi~" And the moans start again. The pleasure begins to rise to Valentino's head. 

"F-fuck Vincent yes-" He doesn't hear himself say it, in his pleasure. The man sneers into his neck, behind him.

Does Vincent hear Valentino correctly? He just moaned his name while another man is fucking him!

"Is this the guy you're thinking of?" He thrusts against his prostate. "Slut." Valentino blushes hard.

Vincent’s throat goes dry and his mind spirals into a frenzy. After what he said to Valentino, after receiving a well-deserved slap, why is Valentino moaning HIS name? This doesn’t make any sense! None of this makes any sense! 

The man groans into the whore’s neck, gripping him tighter and tighter, and Valentino can feel himself close to cumming. He grabs the man’s hair from behind, staring vaguely into space. 

"Fill me Papi~ mnnh-" Their skin slap together roughly, Valentino moans shamelessly until the man suddenly ejaculates inside him. "Oh fffuck... so good..."

Vincent is dizzy as he hears the obscene sound of Valentino being filled. He should leave now while he still can, but can he really leave with such disgusting raging hard that everyone could see below his belt? Vincent presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm his breathing and hoping his hard on to go away. He can’t be caught by Valentino, not like this. 

He had said he never wanted to see him ever again and that was that. He is acting like a school boy. It’s  frustrating, embarrassing. He owns a fucking business, for Christ’s sake! 

The blond breathes slowly into the back of Valentino's neck. Valentino is trying to calm down too. He stands up, clutching his insides, his cheeks pink. 

"Uh... fuck, thanks..." Valentino murmurs, the man quickly getting up and getting dressed. He gives him a smile, but nothing more. He leaves, walking past Vincent without even looking or seeing him. Valentino sinks back into the armchair, sighing. 

"Fucker..." He feels a little sad. Good sex, that's what he'd asked for… He feels like he had a binge eating attack, like he had fulfilled something, but it makes him sick and unsatisfied, and above all ashamed.

Vincent looks up, this man looks familiar, but he leaves too quickly. Fucker. Vincent feels like he is worried for Valentino… as if he wants to check on him. Vincent shakes his head. He has to leave now, erection or not. At least, it softened a bit more now. He closes the book with a soft thud, slowly standing up, to attempt to not make any noise. 

Valentino pats his own cheeks, he has to pull himself together. He'll pull himself together. He's had his good fuck. There were other wealthy men besides Vincent in this hotel, and he'd find a sugar daddy worthy of the name and his time.  

He puts his clothes back on, quickly, and comes out from behind the bookcase, thinking he was alone. 

He misses a beat when he sees Vincent. 

Shit, had he heard everything?! Valentino isn’t particularly prudish, but he is still angry even though he fantasized about him! No need to talk, they didn't know each other after all.

Vincent holds his breath when they lock eyes. The man looks like he has been crying. Why does Vincent feel so shitty? 

Valentino looks away and leaves the room with quick steps, crossing his arms and hanging his head. 

Vincent doesn’t like this feeling, as if he’s being swallowed up by guilt. His eyes are widening at the rejection, but no. He had said he never wanted to see Valentino again and the latino is only sticking by it, respecting his boundaries. 

Vincent watches Valentino's back retreat further away, his hard-on finally no longer present. He grips his book so tightly that his knuckles turn white, but he doesn't realize it.

What the fuck is this feeling? Why is he feeling it? Vincent sits down, feeling exhausted and drained before he launches the book into the wall. He needs to get a fucking grip of himself! Valentino is a fucking man who took advantage of him, there is no feelings- It’s just another pattern he keeps repeating over and over, and he needs to break free from it. 

Everything is getting confusing. He rejects Valentino, but finds him so fucking gorgeous on the other hand; he hears the latino moan his name in public and can't help but get an erection and find him so attractive since the first seconds- Calm down, Vincent. Your hormones are playing tricks on you.

What happened to this vacation being stressfree? All he's feeling is frustration, anger and confusion. 

Utter fucking bullshit! 

Valentino's heart pounds so hard in his chest. He really hadn't wanted to see Vincent at that moment, in such a vulnerable moment. His stomach aches. He is going to get drunk in his room, vomit his guts out without eating anything before or after, and he'd be better tomorrow. Yeah, good idea.

After crossing the entire hotel, he slams the door to his room violently, calls room service, and orders about fifteen beers and one bottle of vodka. He puts it on Vincent's bill. 

He's fucking angry.

Deep breaths, Vincent. Why is it anywhere he had to go Valentino was there, to anger him in some way? It had to be intentional. 

Vincent bends down to grab his book and heads off on the journey back to his room, mind reeling. It’s nearly 4 p.m. now. He should chill in his hotel room to try and figure out what the fuck was going inside of his head. He arrives, sets the book down and sits on his bed to grab the TV remote, switching it on and puts on a shitty movie for background noise. 

The way Valentino had looked at him like that... Is he possibly facing his own monsters too?

Bottle after bottle, lying on his bed, Valentino finishes the afternoon completely drunk. He didn't really know where he was either. There are four beers left on the floor, the bottle of vodka is half drunk, and Valentino is brooding and brooding so much that his head hurts. He sees, blurry, the clock on the wall reading 9 p.m.... 8 p.m.? Or maybe 10 p.m...

The world is spinning. He doesn’t dare lift his body. Fuck, why not send a message to another guy to come take care of him in this state? At least he wouldn't feel anything, he'd be useful. He would be what he is supposed to be: a whore chasing money.

Urg... He grabs his face, palm over his eyes.

“H…urts…”

Vincent's words had affected him. He had wanted to be something other than a whore, but had only been perceived as such. He just wants to have a good time with a guy he finds attractive… Why was he feeling that shitty because of a FUCKING stranger?

Vincent isn’t any closer to understand his own thoughts about Valentino, and why the fuck he had done what he had just did. Listening like a creep…

He is sitting on his bed with his shoes kicked off, his pillows up against his back and he watched some mindless Youtube videos and even a movie at some point. But nothing can stop his thoughts derailing back to Valentino… He is nothing more than a stranger who took advantage of him.

Yet, Vincent kind of did the same, hadn’t he? Listening… even his body had enjoyed the prospect of hearing the latino being pounded into by another man… it hadn't been him. 

He had somewhere wanted that to be him. 

What is wrong with me? Vincent thinks he is over this, over sex for good after that man who ruined everything. He can’t enjoy the things he loved before ever again. 

But Valentino had listened to his only request. He remembers him grinding against his clothed leg and smothering his nipples with gestures so envious yet respectful of what he had asked. Keeping his clothes on.

No. Vincent shakes his head. Valentino only did that because he is a sex worker, a whore; he listens to his clients and to what they want.

Nothing more, nothing less and that was that. Not because of anything else.

I did it because I wanted you, not for your money- I was expecting some fucking reciprocity.

Vincent sighs, frustrated and angry with himself. He smacks his head senseless. Enough of Valentino! He's been thinking about him for an hour already and the film is only halfway through; he hasn't followed anything! The CEO drags his hands down his face.

Vincent decides, instead of going to the casino like he had originally planned. He will have a chill evening and rest with a bottle of whiskey on his beck and call some movies on Netflix and get himself nice and cozy. The whiskey arrives after a quick call from the landline. Vincent thanks the woman before closing the door with a soft click. Vincent places the bottle down before he changes into his silk fresh pair of pajamas. Now comfortable,  the dark haired man returns his attention to the bottle and cracks it open, pouring some of the golden liquid in the short glass filled with ice.

Sighing, Vincent caps the bottle, before turning off the switch and crawling onto the bed. Vincent resumes to the previous position before taking a small swig.

Now, what to watch?

Valentino sleeps like a stone until the next afternoon. He wakes up with a splitting headache, he isn’t hungry and he feels like throwing up. It’s already almost 4 p.m.! But Valentino stumbles to the bathroom, vomiting his guts into the toilet. Fingers clutching the toilet, he wipes his mouth in disgust, then runs himself a bath, returning to the bedroom trying to remember... He grabs his phone, several missed calls, messages from a few clients... He doesn’t want to see any of them.

I know a whore when I see one.

Valentino smirks as he thinks back to the hard slap. Serves him right. He just feels sad again now... He moves his hand up his pecs, over his heart, sighing. 

"Asshole..."

The bath lasts a good hour and a half, he refills it with a little hot water again, and again, as soon as he feels cold. The sun is already going down around 6 p.m. Valentino thinks back about the bills in his suitcase. The casino tempts him, even if it means using money… Maybe he'll find a new man to set his sights on! 

He first decides to undo all his braids, because his hair need a good treatment. He takes a long time to undo each small braid in his long hair, before getting out of the bath, drying himself. He goes to get some hair oil which he applies carefully, then goes to rinse over the bathtub, and finally, he sits on his bed cross-legged and puts on a YouTube video to keep himself busy by re-braiding each strand. It will not be ready until early evening, so Valentino takes his time.

He is thinking about what dress to wear, what heels, what perfume... His fingers are braiding delicately and quickly, his eyes following the people in the video he is watching.

When he finally reaches the last strand, Valentino looks out the window and the sun is already setting. What a strange day... He will be a night owl today. Vincent’s fault for making him that sad and shitty yesterday.

He tucks all his hair behind him and gets up, going to get the dress he wanted. The latino man wears a short black dress, mid-thigh but almost down to his buttocks, fishnet stockings, Louboutin shoes, and a white feather boa on his shoulders. His makeup is quite simple; his body does everything. A nice perfume, and off he goes with a small red purse containing his money.

Now, Vincent isn’t the kind of gambling man to begin with; but the dark haired man can certainly appreciate the thrill of it with his money on the line. He is a trillion dollar company and money holds no value as far as Vincent is aware. 

Plus, It’s still early and Vincent wants to get there early before it gets too busy. Vincent presses the drink against his lips before he realises it’s empty. Damn.. he looks up at the glowing arcade machine, he has no more rounds left and he didn’t win any on this one; but that is fine, there is still plenty to pick and choose from. Vincent feels he has luck on his side this evening.

The man clutches a whiskey glass close to his person. Vincent had told himself he shouldn’t drink again in public after Alastor and Valentino- but he can’t help it, who couldn’t go wrong with a one cheeky whiskey? Vincent is on his vacation and he should be able to enjoy a drink or two while in public- it could be progress… There is nothing wrong with drinking, just as long as he keeps to himself. Vincent approaches the bar and asks for the same drink. The man is quickly served with a nod of his head. The music from the machines clashing with one another are jarringly loud as he approaches them once more, wondering what one to pick. 

He will do a few more machine games, before joining a dealers table when more people arrive. Vincent chooses a pirate themed machine, slotting in $300 inside. The man licks his teeth as he brings the glass to his lips, beginning to press buttons as the colours flashed and whizzed across his eyes.

Vincent notice/ movement from the corner of his eye as a blonde woman approaches him with a teasing smile and Vincent can’t help but feel his defenses rise. He gives the woman a tight smile. She is sexy and slender, with a glittery black dress that shows off way too much of her large chest. Her hair is bleach blonde as her face was powdered with heavy makeup, her skin white as snow. She is the first to speak as Vincent forces his eyes to look and meet her blue ones.

“Mind if I watch you play for a bit?” Her voice is like honey. A beautiful woman like her, approaching Vincent, who is in his late thirties who looked older than his actual age? Vincent can only assume that the woman wants what Valentino wanted. Sex. Money.

Well.. Vincent can entertain money; and some company, but not the kind she probably wants, so until then- Vincent can tolerate her for now.

“Uh.. yeah, sure.” Vincent clears his throat, swallowing hard as his eyes pull back to the obnoxiously glowing screen. 

Valentino doesn’t gamble much, so he doesn’t feel like playing card games. He would keep the gentlemen company, get to know them... And play games of chance instead. 7:15 PM, Valentino finds a seat next to some gentlemen playing poker. He chats with a tall, dark-haired man who explains the rules of the game, one hand with large rings on his fingers holding the cards, the other caressing Valentino's cheek. He can smell the smoke from cigarettes and cigars in his lungs. 

"What's a princess like you doing in a place like this?"

The man asks when his turn is over. Valentino makes a small face. 

"I'm looking for company..." He strokes the man's thigh. Soon after, the game is won. Valentino is about to stand up. The man holds him back. 

"I can teach you how to play~" 

"I don't have much to bet." Valentino says. 

"I'll give you. Guys, I'll teach him, be nice."

Valentino sits down in his seat and the man looks at his companions. 

"Since there are two of us, I'll double my bet, so if you win, it's fair."

Valentino finally relaxes; he hadn't expected to be included. So he learns the rules, the man whispering in his ear as he points to the cards in his long-nailed hands. But, he ends up laughing and chatting with the others. He orders a large cocktail.

Eventually relaxing, he cups the man's chin and kisses him on the lips, a wide, predatory grin following. But as he turns his head, he sees in the distance, behind the man... Vincent and a woman. 

"Tch." Obviously this beautiful woman is getting his attention. Always "real" women with these kinds of men, never transvestites or transgender women, never fags who liked dresses! Valentino is furious.

He diverts his attention and, now with the rules in mind, a lot of anger, a stroke of luck and the man's help, he shows his cards... and loses the bet. Fucking shit!

Vincent feels sweat roll down his neck as the woman inches closer to him, the numbers going down rapidly before it reaches zero. Damn it.

“Awh, poor sugar, better luck next time…” The woman sounds sincere as Vincent casually shrugs.

“It’s not much of a loss.” Vincent doesn’t brag- it was a statement. His eyes scan over to the dealers table where it looks like quite a few men have joined. Vincent perks up, gesturing to the woman to come join him as he approaches the group, glass partially still full in hand. He loosens his smile, like how he used to while he presented on live television.

“Good evening, gentlemen, I don’t suppose I could join you for a few games?”

One of the guys gestures for Vincent to come and sit down in his place, while Valentino fake-whines to the guy, who of course plays fair and lets the money go. 

"I'm sorryyy..." He says dishonestly. 

"It's your first game Doll, let's do it again." The man says kindly, Valentino drinking his cocktail. 

"Thanks, handsome~" Valentino leans over him and kisses his cheek.

"What if I lose again?" 

"We're here to play, aren't we?"

He receives the ringed hand on his leg and feels a monumental thrill. Oh. Now that's a real sugar daddy. His cheeks are pink and he drinks while staring at the table where the cards are being reshuffled.

Valentino looks up, finding himself face to face with Vincent. He holds his gaze, his long eyelashes fluttering in the air, his brows slightly furrowed. Vincent finds himself tightening his hand around the glass as his eyes lock with Valentino, lips pressed tight as he no longer holds that million dollar smile. 

Why did this man have to follow him everywhere, damn it!

The man next to Valentino strokes his thigh. "Do you know this man, babe?" He says, a little hostile towards Vincent.

Vincent strains with a chuckle and answers before Valentino could. 

“Him? Oh no, my good man, haha. I’ve never met this man in my life. Well, all I say is now may the best man win!” Vincent says, walking over to the empty seat to sit himself down and takes a sip from his drink. The blonde woman follows closely behind, he drags his seat closer under the table with false confidence. 

Valentino feels angry again, so angry that he hesitates to leave. He inhales slowly. The man then explains to Vincent how he goes about helping Valentino not properly understanding the rules: and he doubles his own bet for fairness. Valentino almost feels ashamed to be there. But the guy helping him is nice. A second one comes over and strokes his cheek gently. 

"Come on, you're going to fleece this guy, aren't you, beautiful?"

Valentino crosses his legs and smiles, enjoying the double attention. He gives Vincent a condescending smile and then smiles fully. 

"Of course."

Valentino tightens his fingers around the newly dealt cards. He takes a sip of alcohol, and one of the guys leans over him to give him a smoke from his cigarette. Vincent reels from shock to anger as Valentino gives him a smile that had him crawling under his skin. 

What the fuck is his problem? Vincent grimaces, feeling all the more determined to win now and get rid of that whore’s smug expression. He observes his cards in hand. 

They are a good play, but Vincent isn’t one to reveal too much as he waits for the other men to deal first. The woman behind him presses her hand against his shoulder as to comfort him and Vincent almost- almost jumps out of his skin but rather feels himself tense up. He had forgotten about her.

Valentino's eyes fix on this woman for a moment. Urg, he feels jealous. Jealous but annoyed by Vincent's behavior. They had half slept together- That was already a lot! He doesn’t feel rational- 

"I advise you to fold, you don't have the right cards to bluff..." His table partner whispers, then leaves him a tempting kiss on the neck, before straightening up, smiling slyly at Vincent.

“I play all in,” Vincent says boldly, undeterred by the negative atmosphere the men around the table were giving off him in waves.

Valentino feels the urge to gamble despite the advice, and lays down his cards and... loses again. He has inferior cards. He pales. The dark-haired man pats his thigh, laughing. 

"I told you to fold!" He doesn’t seem offended. Valentino looks away as the money go to Vincent. 

"But I was sure I could play..." 

"You're fine babe, I have enough to lose. You're cute when you lose.” Valentino chuckles when he hears it.

Vincent all but rolls his eyes at this interaction he is witnessing. Suddenly, the woman behind him presses herself more against his back that makes Vincent’s cheeks grow warm and uncomfortable. 

“Oh sugar, congratulations on winning~ You wanna play again or go for another round?” The woman purrs into his ear, but still loud enough for others to hear- it makes Vincent want to scream and get out of the situation immediately but he is trapped. Plus, there are too many eyes on him, men that would deem him as a coward more than he already is one.

Vincent picks up the glass with a faint tremble to his hands as he takes a healthy gulp from the liquid to calm his racing nerves.

“I- uh, ahaha, I’ll play a few more rounds, my dear. Why don’t you get yourself a drink while I play? Put on my tab, they know who I am.” Vincent tells the woman with a tight smile, sweating buckets in his suit. 

Valentino stares at the young woman, like all the other men at the table. Despite his jealousy, he can imagine spending some time with her... 

"Oy chiquita... You're so pretty you’re making him shy, we still need him you know?" He purrs as he looks at her. Might as well have her in his pocket too.

Vincent feels himself bristling for some reason. Valentino is flirting with her- Is he really that jealous of him right now?

The woman laughs, warm and kind as she waves her hand. 

“Oh you charmer, I have my eyes set on this tiger tonight. Maybe some other time though, honey.” The woman sways her hips as she disappears to the bar, leaving the men alone at the table momentarily. Vincent is left a little stunned to silence as he finds himself downing the remains of his drink. 

The game resumes. Valentino isn’t good, obviously. He loses twice more, within half an hour. He'd finished his cocktail too... He groans in frustration as a few hundred dollars go to Vincent. 

"Uhhh, I'm so bad!!"

The tall, dark-haired man hadn't stopped staring at Vincent during the game, and ignoring Valentino, he called out to Vincent, "You're Vincent Sterling. I saw you on a rerun in my hotel room!"

Valentino raises his eyebrows, while the attention falls on Vincent.

The woman returns with a classic cocktail in hand and another in her other hand that was a short glass of whiskey for Vincent. He hadn’t expected her to get him one. The seat next to him is now free as she sits down to rest her legs.

What is with him getting recognized? He is supposed to be irrelevant now three years later! The CEO inwardly sighs.

“I- yes… You are correct, my good man.” Vincent brings the glass to his lips, enjoying the deep burn that went down his throat. 

"I'm sick of watching reruns, when will we see you back on air? You were good at what you did! It's not the same without you." He is honest.

Vincent is taken aback by the comment, not expecting the hostile man to say such a nice thing about his work… it touches him. 

“I- ah.. appreciate your praise, I’m getting old now and people these days want a young face on the screen.” It’s half the truth, Vincent can at least give the man that. He takes a slow sip of his drink.

"Certainly... But we want to see you again." 

Valentino stands up suddenly, partly irritated at not receiving attention, partly... uncomfortable. 

"Forgive me, gentlemen. I'm going to the bathroom.” He says this curtly. He stares at Vincent. Hurt by the accumulation of recent events, he prefers to leave the table. Vincent looks up, raising a dark brow. He looks undeniably irritated, pissed off, even. Vincent can’t understand why. Whatever, it isn’t his problem to deal with. Vincent lowers his eyes before he tips back the whiskey some more and resumes back to the conversation with the man.

“I understand; but my workload behind the scenes no longer gives me time to be on screen anymore, so, I give other young talented people a chance to shine in the lime light.” It is all partially excuses of course. Nobody needs to ever know the true reasons. 

Vincent feels the woman's hand slowly trail along his thigh under the table, causing Vincent to hold his breath.

After using the restroom, Valentino looks at himself in the mirror. Jealous, he was jealous... He couldn't seem to feel anything else. He feels nauseous.  A hot flash rushes to his head and he leans against a sink. Fuck- He forgets he hasn't eaten anything or had any water. He rubs his forehead slowly, his temples, his heart beating rapidly.

Twenty minutes had already passed, and Valentino hadn't shown up, having disappeared. His little handbag is still there, though. The man continues to chat with Vincent without paying attention.

Vincent finishes his third drink as the woman now practically hangs off his arm– it was tolerable, at best. The dark haired man can’t help but notice as time passed with conversation Valentino hasn't returned from the bathroom, his eyes gazing at his little purse before flickering back to the man opposite him. 

He totally isn’t worried about Valentino– not at all. 

“I’ll be a moment, my friends. Continue on without me.” Vincent smiles as the chair scrapes loudly behind him. The woman and man continue without care as Vincent leaves for the men's bathroom. Vincent steps inside, seeing Valentino hovering over the sink and clutching on to it. Vincents lips pursed as the door closed behind him, he should say something- 

It has to be the drinks again as he found his lips moving before he could stop them. He’s so drawn to Valentino like a damn fucking magnet.

“Are... uh... you okay...?” Vincent says slowly, hesitant.

Valentino misses a heartbeat and quickly turns his head to Vincent, pale as a sheet of white linen. Ah, he remembers the day before, and the shame he fucking felt. He makes a small face. 

"I’m fine..." He says sharply. He straightens up, smooths his hair back, and walks towards Vincent, seeing as he's in front of the door. He staggers for a moment, places his hand flat on the tiled wall, and inhales. Don't make a fool of yourself- But Valentino is running out of strength, feeling worse and worse. He wants to go back to his room. He might as well pass out there.

Vincent stares at Vincent with a cryptic expression, unconvinced as the colour drained from Valentino’s face with each step he takes. Vincent’s brows pinch, feeling suddenly genuinely concerned for the man who has only given him headaches for the past three days. 

“Listen- I know it's not my business, but you look like shit.” Vincent says rather bluntly. 

Valentino has a headache, little strength, and he wants to bury himself, but the asshole keeps talking to him. He's clearly about to pass out. 

"Y-you're not better," Valentino says, the only thing keeping him going is getting his purse back. His money. What he has left.

"And whores are never pretty to look at. What did you expect…" Valentino then growls resentfully, finally arriving at that damn door.

“No– I didn’t mean it in that way.” Vincent huffs, frustrated. This man certainly knows how to push his buttons and twist his words... 

“You look unwell, pale, shaken up. I’d never intentionally call you shit because you’re fucking– anyway,” Vincent quickly snaps his jaw shut, almost jeopardizing himself to Valentino. 

Valentino turns around with such an offended look. 

"I’m fucking what?" His tone is dangerous, his jaw clenching. He's in pain all over. He wants to leave. He feels like once he's in a hallway, he's going to fall to the ground. Shit.

Vincent grits his teeth. He was about to tell Valentino he was damn fucking beautiful, but he couldn’t- he wouldn’t. That would open up a whole another flood of fuckery that Vincent can’t deal with right now. He sighs, dragging a hand over his face. 

“So fucking unwell!” Vincent blurts out, gesturing to the man with his arms.

“You look ill and just- you look like you can barely stand. I’m about to leave this game anyway. Why don’t you let me help you back to your room?” Vincent huffs out. Since when did he become a charity case for men like Valentino?

What kind of sadistic emotional trap does Vincent like to set? Valentino clenches his jaw.

"I-I have to get my bag back... I have money in it..." He feels himself starting to get anxious... He doesn’t want to lose $600…

Vincent pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. 

“I’ll grab it for you, are you able to stand by yourself?” Vincent says, no longer needing a piss anymore.

"Y-yes." He lies. He staggers, starting to open the door, and barely taking a step into the hallway, Valentino is blinded by the light and lets out a small, desperate sob. 

"Fuckin’ bitch... I can't do anything..." He mutters violently to himself, with the back meeting the nearest wall. Vincent quickly follows after Valentino as the bathroom door closes behind him. The older man approaches the man by his side, expression filled with pure concern.

“Liar, now hold on to me while we walk together.”

Valentino is suspicious. But he places his hand on his shoulder, feeling the fabric of the expensive suit pleasant to the touch. But he must retrieve his bag. He prays to the heavens that no one has rummaged through it. They probably look ridiculous together as they emerge from the hallway, the people on the table turning their heads as Vincent flashes a tired smile.

“Unfortunetly, my dear friends, this one has had too much to drink; I'll be taking him back. Hopefully we will all run into each other again and continue the evening another time. Could one of you grab his purse for me if I may?” Vincent asks and the woman smiles kindly at him, nodding in understanding. 

“All good, Mr. Sterling; I’m around a while longer and it would be great to get to hang out with you more!” The man says with enthusiasm, taking a hold of Valentino's purse and passing it to Vincent. Vincent shakes his hand while his other one remains on Valentino's slender waist. Vincent tries to not think too much about it, he is locked in to get the man safe back to his room. That’s it. 

“Have a good evening then, friends,” Vincent winks, hopefully the woman wouldn’t be at a total loss that evening. He carries Valentino's stupid purse on his shoulder and begins the difficult walk back to the lift. A lot of people give them curious looks and Vincent tries to not think much of it again as they enter the elevator, pressing the sixth floor to Valentino's room. 

In the elevator, Valentino grabs the small purse from Vincent's shoulder, opens it, and counts the bills in his hands with an anxious expression. Then he relaxes slightly. He hasn't been stolen... He puts them away; they reach the right floor. The anxiety subsides, and he leans against the wall as he gets out. 

"I... I don't feel well..."

“At least hold it in until you get into your room- have you eaten anything today at all?” Since when is Valentino's business Vincent's business? The man keeps an eye on the latino as he walks along the wall, close just in case he falls over. He isn’t drunk enough yet to baby this full grown man.

Answering that question is hard for Valentino. No, he hadn't eaten. He didn't want to. He feels bad. He feels empty, full, too much. 

"I ate..." They arrive in front of the room, Valentino opening the door, and collapsing directly to his knees on his carpet. His vision is blurry. 

"Ah, sorry... I can manage now..."

“Oh, yeah, suuuure… Suure…” Vincent says sarcastically, placing his hand against the door before it could close. Vincent allows himself inside as Valentino is on his knees. Behind him, the door clicks shut as he observes all the alcohol cans littered on the desk. Vincent thought he was bad.

“I’m going to assume you haven’t eaten, I will call something in... something simple, now let’s get you on the bed,” Vincent sighs, it feels like he is dealing with a damn man child- which, theoretically he is, but it doesn’t make it any less easier that makes Vincent feel endeared towards Valentino. 

Hell no.

Vincent offers his hand silently for Valentino to take with a deep, unamused frown.

"Stop fucking infantilizing me-" Valentino half-shouts, looking at him with a half-desperate look, his eyes watering. He sees the hand, hesitantly placing his own in it, and lets himself be guided onto the bed. Once sits on it, he kicks off his heels as best he can, and lays down on his side, his back to Vincent. 

"... I'll call later to eat..." He forgets about the small, empty fridge that allows for storage.

Vincent rolls his eyes, unsure how much truth Valentino held to his words. 

“Well then for starters, how about you stop acting like a man child?” Vincent huffs, staring at Valentino’s back, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that he is exactly any better. Vincent decides when he will be in his own room, he’ll get room service to Valentino’s room for his own peace of mind.

Valentino pulls his knees closer to his chest, curling up. He is exhausted. He wants to bark back. He hugs the pillow to his chest, his eyes closed. 

"...no one's stopping you to leave if I bother you… You told me not to come near you… why are you still here.. fuckin’ nonsense…”

Vincent frowns. He supposes Valentino is right, why had he done it? He supposes in some stupid, frustrating way, he cares for this man who didn’t judge him while they had clothed sex, who had made him actually feel amazing at the time. Then, it was Vincent who cried soon after and internally blamed Valentino it was all his fault. 

It wasn’t Valentino’s fault, Vincent realised– it was all Alastor’s. It’s hard to deal with, knowing that Valentino is the first person to actually do anything sexual with Vincent since that awful man. 

Fuck, he fucks everything up. At least, some things don't change,

A long silence, and Valentino dozes off, semi-conscious. He even thinks Vincent had left, not sure he heard the door... His stomach growls. He relaxes slightly… Vincent looks up as he hears Valentino’s stomach growl. That’s good, he supposes. Vincent knows what it feels like to go to bed hungry. He stares at Valentino's sleeping, beautiful, stupid face as he licks his lips anxiously. 

All Valentino has ever done to him was listen and give him intimacy Vincent never thought he could ever have again. Vincent only lashed out at the latino because he was fucking scared of being hurt again. 

Vincent speaks, wanting to confess to Valentino about his true thoughts while his heart is in the right place for now.

“Back in the bathroom- I wanted to tell you how fucking beautiful you are- but I’m too much of a coward to even admit that.” Vincent frowns, looking at him talking to himself like a loser. Vincent turns his back to Valentino and rests his hand on the doorknob, before leaving.

What is wrong with him? Vincent sighs, dragging a hand over his face. Vincent can only hope Valentino still respects his boundaries despite his revelation of the matter. Vincent is too stubborn to ever admit defeat as he makes his way to his own room, calling for room service to the latino’s room for some soup and finger sandwiches so they can be easily digested. 

After Valentino hears the door close, he opens his wide, tear-filled eyes. Shocked and confused, he sits up and frowns. 

"... what the fuck?" He says, wiping his eyes. He doesn't even want to sleep anymore.

He hears someone at his door after several minutes of emptiness and reflection on what Vincent had just said. He gets up weakly, hoping it's Vincent who comes to talk to him, who comes to... He opens the door and it's room service, with a meal tray. Valentino is disappointed but he takes the tray. 

"Thanks..." And he sits on his bed with it. Who does Vincent think he is? Like he's hungry-

He hears an echo in his head of "how fucking beautiful you are" and groans. 

"Fucking course I'm beautiful, asshole!" He picks up the spoon and takes a sip of the chicken soup.

"You don't even deserve me! You don't even deserve to kiss my feet, you fucking bitch! You just deserve to beg on your stomach for me to look at you! Everyone wants me in this crappy hotel!”

He swallows his soup, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Fuck- Vincent said the opposite of everything he'd done in two days! What a twisted man-

Vincent kicks off his shoes as he sits on the bed, making himself comfortable as he begins to doomscroll aimlessly. The man should probably eat something as well, but the CEO is just as bad. He supposes he is quite the hypocrite.

A message from Eelliot pops up. Vincent raises a brow, before pressing it.

Good evening Sir, I hope you are enjoying your well earned vacation. I saw you had posted another rota in advance, you shouldn't be working, you should be relaxing. I hope it's tailored to your liking.

Vincent groans, rolling his eyes. This fucking kid. Ever since Vincent has returned to the company he has been glued to his side, wanting that same attention Vincent couldn't give the man anymore. Eelliot never says it, but there's hints, touches, when Vincent feels at his lowest and it makes Vincent want to curl in a ball and disappear.

Vincent begins to type:

It's boring, I'm almost half tempted to take the next flight in the morning. 

Vincent presses send, he can see the lines appear straight away as Eelliot responds.

No can do Sir, you need time to yourself and take in the scenery instead of being in your office all the time. Let yourself enjoy the vacation you deserve, Sir. I'll be here if you need me. Goodnight Sir.

Vincent can’t help but roll his eyes again before getting rid of the message, pulling up a Youtube documentary about sharks on his phone. Of course, Vincent already knows everything about them but it is just good background noise to keep his thoughts away from a certain attractive latino man. 

Eating obviously does Valentino good, but it’s late at night and he is mulling it over. Valentino is  obsessed with Vincent. It makes him happy, and sad, and completely crazy. He stares at the ceiling in the dark, gesticulating angrily.

He turns on his side and keeps his brow furrowed. 

"...Why does he make me so fucking horny…?" He concludes, tired, before falling asleep out like a light.

Vincent eventually changes out of his clothes, now into his pajamas and turns off the lights, before sliding into the covers. Vincent has Youtube playing on his phone while it charges, drifting off into a restless sleep.