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Summary
“No,” Husk says flatly, not looking up from counting his poker chips.
Valentino scrunches his face into a pout as he stretches himself across the bartop, his fingers curling around the shot. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
”You don’t have to. I know that look means you’re thinking about fucking someone. It’s not difficult to guess who. The answer’s no. You can’t fuck him, find someone else.”
”But Husky.” Valentino whines as he pulls himself off the bartop, throws back his drink, and falls sensually across the Casino Overlord’s lap. He reaches up to fiddle with his grumpy partner’s bow tie.
”I don’t want the Radio Demon up our asses—don’t say it!”
”Oooh, kinky.” Valentino couldn’t help himself. As soon as the sad little television in the yellow sweater walked in, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he fucked him. Val was as benevolent as he was beautiful; he could give the little television a pity fuck.
Series
- Part 3 of Bartender Vox Week