#antonio vc: i popped two pills and the wine is good LETS GO

[flosiovis]

@sorte-de-vida​: ( TOUCH ) “accidentally” briefly touching mine.

He can say that he didn’t anticipate in the middle of a professional business dinner for Antonio to run his fingers right up his thigh. Fucker, he’s always been sensitive in the thighs. The muscle tenses under the featherlight touch, and only Antonio is likely close enough to hear him suck a sharp, quick breath in through his nose.

That’s likely for the best.

Hazel eyes dart over to the spaniards smug little face, and he gives a huff when he gives an “oops, sorry.” And leaves it at that. With a stab to one of his pastas he takes a bite, though then it happens again. João nearly chokes on the bite the second time.

This time, he meets him with a glare. He’s going to kill him…

The glare isn’t enough to dissuade him from trying a third time, but almost getting caught is - oh, João, you are lucky that Antonio actually wants to keep his new job. Or maybe not so lucky. Antonio smiles at him, bringing his hand up to rest on the edge of the table, tap-tap-tapping those fingers along the side of the plate momentarily.

“Ay, Joãozinho, don’t be a glutton. If you don’t hold yourself back you might choke,” Antonio pokes at him, gesturing with his fork, that shit-eating grin still present on his face. His brilliant green eyes have nearly turned into crescents with the laughter he is holding back, nose wrinkling at the bridge. He can’t eat, scared of retaliation and of being spoiled ... there is such a thing as life-changing food, he won’t risk it.

But he does slide his hand down beneath the table again, inching closer by-the-knuckle, leaning in as if to ask him something relevant: “You don’t want to choke, or do you?” (The smell of wine is still sweet on his lips but where the hell did he get... ah, who cares, he kissed the inside of his thigh briefly with his fingertips,) “It would be a reason to get the hell out of here at the very least.”