In Other Words, I Love You

by AntiVoided

Summary:

Mafioso and Chance’s plans to spend a peaceful movie night together are ruined when Chance is summoned home by their overbearing mother. Just as he’s about to leave, things unexpectedly escalate a little.

Notes:

– 　Title is a lyric from " Fly Me To The Moon " because I can't make my titles anything that aren't song lyrics I swear to fucking god .

– 　hey guys this has NO substance and NO plot and NO nothing & it's a big NOTHINGburger because I came up with & started writing it for fun when I got kicked out by my mom & went to a park to sit down , also honestly just an excuse to write another makeout sesh I need this so bad in my life you don't even know

ENJOY MY CRINGE DOUBLEFEDORA SLOP 💙😭 sorry for any grammar or spelling issues I proofread this when I wasreally tired :( & I'm posting it while I'm still really tired

The lounge was dimly lit, all lights off and the room only illuminated by the flickering glow of the television. The curtains were half-drawn, holding back the night outside and leaving the space private and hushed enough for pure comfort.

 

Mafioso was lazily sprawled out across half of the couch, legs stretched out and body sinking into the cushions like he owned the place– which, yeah, he did actually. His head rested comfortably on Chance’s lap, a limp weight that pinned them, but one that they didn’t mind at all.

 

One of their hands was absently threading through Mafioso’s dark hair, fingertips occasionally brushing the base of his ears before running over the soft fur. The limbs would twitch under the touch, Chance needing to fight back a grin everytime they’d flick when his nails grazed the right spots.

 

Muffled sounds of gunfire and action from the film rumbled in the background. Mafioso let his half-lidded eyes track the motion on the screen, the scene only slipping past in small fragments; a flash of someone running, people yelling, more gunshots– none of it really mattered to him, though. He was more interested in the feeling of Chance’s hand combing through his hair than the movie.

 

The gambler’s hand slid over his head, coaxing strands back before gently dragging over the curves of his ears. Their other hand reached for a half-eaten party-sized bag of chips, something the pair had been eagerly snacking on during their movie session. Chance lowered the packet in front of Mafioso’s face, shaking it a little, but the man let out a hum of soft rejection, to which they’d withdraw their offer.

 

The two stayed like that for a while, soaked in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Meanwhile, the movie droned on– something Mafioso still wasn’t paying much mind to. To be entirely honest, he was almost dozing, lulled by the warmth of it all.

 

Until a loud ringtone blared from Chance’s pocket.

 

Mafioso winced, ears twitching hard at the noise. Not to mention the vibration blasting against where he’d pillowed his head, disturbing the peace.

 

“Oh, shit–” Chance scrambled up before he could, jolting the now whining mobster off their lap. They fumbled for the TV remote with one hand, digging into their pockets with the other. The movie stuttered to a pause mid-action scene, muting only to make more room for that insistent ringing. “Damn. It’s my mom,” he then stated, already standing up. “One sec.”

 

The warmth under Mafioso’s head vanished as they slipped free. The loss was sharp, irritating in a way he couldn’t put into words, so he let out another disgruntled whine instead as he tilted his head back and watched Chance retreat into the hallway. They pressed their phone to their ear.

 

“Hey, ma…” He heard them say distantly before disappearing out of sight, voice growing more muffled by the second.

 

Left sprawled out on the couch, the mafia boss stared blankly at the frozen blur of the paused film, his tail thumping against the cushioning impatiently. He huffed.

 

Only a minute later, the nearing creak of the floorboards signaled Chance’s return. Mafioso watched him reappear in the doorway, immediately noticing how sheepish the guy looked.

 

“I gotta head out,” the gambler sighed, taking his coat from the couch’s backrest and quickly slipping it on. “She’s not happy– says I’ve been pissing her off all week with how late I’m staying out lately.”

 

Mafioso sat up almost instantly, and Chance rubbed the back of their neck whilst he gave them that look– sharp-edged, brows furrowed and ears twitching with annoyance.

 

“She’s crazy,” he muttered flatly. “And she needs to lay off– you’re a fully grown adult.”

 

The other barked out an anxious laugh, trying not to show how much that stung as they snatched their wallet, signature coin and fedora back from the coffee table next. The ‘sting’ wasn’t from the words, but instead the truth of them. Yeah, he was an adult. And yet, one call from his mom and he’d be cutting the night short like a teenager caught sneaking out past curfew.

 

“I know.” They mumbled, lifting their headphones up from their neck before fixing their fedora back atop their head. They palmed their coin, twirling it between their fingers whilst they stuffed their wallet into their reliable coat pocket.

 

Mafioso watched every movement in silence at first, ears flicking idly.

 

“You want a ride?” He asked, making Chance pause midway through buttoning their coat back up.

 

“Nah, ‘m good. I’ll call a cab and wait at that gas station down the street.” The other shook their head, voice muffled through the coin they now held between their teeth. They tugged their attire into place. “Besides, you’d just complain about my music taste the whole drive there.”

 

Mafioso pushed himself up off the couch at last, joints popping whilst he briefly stretched. He followed the gambler as they stepped back out into the hallway, now reaching for their shoes. 

 

“You sure?” The man pressed, voice low but insistent. “It’s late.”

 

Chance shook his head quickly, flipping his coin once, just for fun.

 

Ting!

 

“Seriously, it’s fine, Maf.” They laughed, seeing the concern on the other’s face. “Relax. What? You think I’m going to trip over a crack in the sidewalk and die?”

 

Mafioso gave him a flatly irritated look, but didn’t push further. He simply observed as Chance put his shoes on and strode further down the hall. A stubborn part within them secretly did want him to push further– they hated to have to leave so early.

 

The two arrived at the front door together, and the mobster leaned against the wall, arms crossed and expressionless.

 

Chance turned the knob, cold air seeping in through the now cracked open door. Damn, it was freezing out there. Hissing in a reluctant breath, they turned around.

 

“Alright, you gonna kiss me goodnight or what?” He smirked, rolling his coin over his knuckles. They flicked the coin into the glow of the hallway light. “Actually,” they didn’t wait for a reply, flipping their coin. “Heads, you do. Tails–”

 

But they never got to finish.

 

The door slammed shut against their back as Mafioso’s mouth abruptly crashed into theirs, alongside his weight which kept them bracketed against the wood. Their coin clattered to the floor, the result unseen– not that it mattered anyway; With no coinflip needed, Mafioso had made the decision for them.

 

Chance didn’t even register it properly at first, the air in his lungs stolen before he could gasp. 

 

Lips colliding further into theirs, Mafioso didn’t pull back. He pressed their chests together, the gambler’s shoulders hitting the door again as the other’s mouth moved harder, deeper– dragging them into the kind of kiss that made the world stutter out of existence.

 

Chest flushed and pinned under the weight of Mafioso’s body, Chance was left with their head spinning. Their brain was quick to go blank, invaded by the feeling of warm, insistent lips sealing over their own. His thoughts scattered like marbles, every first instinct– to laugh, to joke, to stammer out some smart remark– all died in his throat.

 

But the shock burned out fast. Despite the way their mind smeared, consumed by the heat of the dizzy rush, Chance gave in.

 

They lifted their arms, grabbing fistfuls of Mafioso’s shirt to anchor themselves. They clutched even tighter as their knees nearly buckled, to which they found a hand steadying them by their waist.

 

The moment Chance tilted their head just enough to fit better against the mobster’s mouth, the kiss turned molten.

 

Mafioso pushed closer, lips parting theirs, dragging a low sound from their throat which they hadn’t even realized they made until moments later. When his teeth hungrily grazed their lower lip, Chance broke into a fleeting gasp– something the man was quick to take advantage of, and something they didn’t mind at all.

 

Their face ran hot– a little too hot, red burning through their cheeks. But in the moment they both paused for a short-lived, ragged breath, they saw it was the same case for the other.

 

Chance’s hands fumbled and gripped, trying restlessly to decide where to go; The front of Mafioso’s shirt, his collar, behind his head or neck, maybe his back– not enough. Nothing brought them close enough. Their back was pressed harder into the door, and they mindlessly hooked their legs up around Mafioso’s waist, clinging tight.

 

Mafioso let out of a muffled grunt, shifting to hold them steady as his tail wagged in frantic bursts. One of his hands stayed braced on the shuddering wood, fingers splayed wide. Meanwhile the other held Chance anywhere he could as tight as possible to resume every heavy, unrelenting kiss that followed. His ears stayed pinned hard against his skull, twitching wildly with the heat of the moment.

 

Chance pressed back with everything he had, kissing hard and hungry, giving back as much as Mafioso was taking. They clung on like they’d fall if they even loosened for a second. They didn’t even pay mind to their fedora as it fell off their head, landing by Mafioso’s feet.

 

The makeout was soon to turn near frantic; Every pause for a snatch of breath lasted less than a second, ragged gasps of air proving useless mere moments later. Every clash of their mouths was greedy, teeth clashing in between the press of it. Every groan and whine only blurred everything deeper.

 

Both individual’s heads spun. Their lungs burned, their hearts thrashed in their ribcages– it was messy, little care put into it as their minds were simply fixed on the sole goal of devouring each other.

 

Chance’s hands trembled from holding on so tightly, fingertips unintentionally scraping hard at the back of Mafioso’s shirt. Their legs shook around his waist whilst still locked tight, body remaining flushed against the door. The heat between the two of them was reckless and fierce, the kind of moment burning away from everything else and leaving them wanting more–

 

Until it proved to be too much. Chance’s body fell weak from the intensity, head buzzing with static and heat– not to mention the burn in his lungs. Gods, they couldn’t breathe. Was he trying to kill them with this?

 

He let out a muffled whine into Mafioso’s mouth, and when that didn’t slow the action, he reached higher, blindly finding one of those soft, twitching ears beneath his fingers. Then they tugged. Not hard– but still firm enough to be an unmistakable request to stop.

 

Mafioso froze immediately. The response was so quick it startled them, the pressure of lips gone in an instant. Exhaling sharply, the man dropped Chance back onto their feet before stepping a hefty pace back.

 

“The hell, Chance–” The mobster’s voice cracked raw, unmasked irritation in his tone as he ducked his head down. Still blushing wildly, his ears pinned back before the impacted one drooped. He lifted a hand to soothe the mildly abused limb before he went on to say something about fragility and recklessness, chest rising and falling hard.

 

Chance barely heard any of it; Their mind was still a blur, purely hollowed out from the rush. Yeah, they could’ve just asked him to stop, but honestly, who would be able to think straight in such a position? He stood against the door, heart hammering out of control– his coat was ruffled up, face surged in bright red, and his shades were half off his face.

 

All they could feel was the aftershock, echoing throughout their whole body as they lifted a hand to one of their flushed cheeks. He was left too flustered to even know what came next.

 

“... Actually, I-I changed my mind,” they rattled, to which Mafioso raised a brow at them. “I’d love a ride home.”

Notes:

– 　Mkayyy . . . mkaaaayyyyyyy . . I gotta stop staying up so late & posting fanfiction it's 2am man anyways I'm throwing my Strawpage‎ at you & running away . If you've requested stuff yes I hear you I promise I'm working on it !