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Summary
"What did you give him?"
"Molly," Franco answers readily, his thumb dragging across Marco's swollen, cherry red lips, smearing lip gloss over his loose face. It adds a nice touch, anyway, and even if Valentino doesn’t particularly like the oily texture of gloss it’ll be gone entirely by the time the boys are done with him. He licks his lips. On his periphery, Celestino is mirroring him, lost to his haze and looking up to Luca with eyes as big as the moon, devouring.
The twitch in Marco’s jaw is a dead giveaway. With eyes glossy and stalking, Valentino watches Marco writhe slightly, needy, on the verge of whimpering. Since it’s his birthday and life is short, much too short for senseless cruelty, he magnanimously crouches down by his side, cupping his cheeks with unnecessary force, just so he can leave a nice bruised impression that will linger, a little memento of a night he will most probably forget.Vale's 46th birthday calls for a special celebration.