The sound of seething anger was not audible to anyone although it could be felt by the single soul linked to him; the feel of it like a low growl vibrating through their common connection. Heavy steps in a quick cadence the outward betrayal of the internal rage. Santos' leather trench coat fluttered around his figure as he stalked down the alley; these dark arteries of filth his preferred mode of navigating the city. His boot displaced water, an innocent puddle from the last rain dispersed. He paused, anger welling. A sharp turn and he shoved himself back into a lean against the wall. Glowering face and nearly glowing eyes downturned initially before a grumpy breath was drawn in and attention jumped back down the alleyway. Fingers inside worn leather gloves clenched, needing to feel the soft flesh of a throat being crushed within his grasp. His head threw back, thunking hard into the wall as his eyes closed. Calm. He had to find his center. Then he could execute that which he so desired to complete. The moon overhead hid her face from the city below, shadows ranged freely. The scents of the sewers and stale beer permeated the area. He could feel nearby heartbeats as if they lived inside his own body, multiple staccatos of varied stages of excitement. His fingers clenched tighter. If not for the gloves, nails would even now be cutting into his own palms. A hand came forward then crashed back, the side of his balled fist impacting the brick he leaned against at thigh level. He felt no satisfaction from the action; the need to kill remained.

Down the alley, heavy booted footfalls echoed and bounced against the high brick walls of nearby buildings. Santos let his head tip slightly, eyes moving to follow the path of the other, a small amount of peace drawn from the approaching figure. Santos could see the smoke lingering from the clove pressed there between lips. There was no need for Angelo to scan the surrounding area for Santos, he could feel him as if Santos was there at his side. As he strode toward Santos, the strap of the guitar slid against the leather of his coat; guitar idle resting at his hip after another standard show. It was a night much like any other in that respect. His heavy boots crashed down into puddles of water, cascades of cool fluid outward to gave way for the boot. His stride hardly slowed. Santos' seething anger rumbled through Angelo's own body as if it were his own and at times when those emotions did combine, Angelo felt as if he was one with the other. Coming to stop in front of Santos, his hand lifted to clasp fingertips on the butt of the clove, stepping in closer, bodies there in front of one another. He pulled the clove from his lips; smoke exhaled. "What is it this time, Santos?" The tone of the voice that brought forth the words was bass-baritone, the sort of voice that would earn him extra if he ever chose to express his songs with words. Head tilted, blue eyes examining Santos' face, narrowing just a hair until he lifted the clove back to his lips and pulled in the flavour.

Santos struggled with his own rage living within his body. The question, vocalized, caught his attention and green eyes darted to land square on Angelo. So many things flickered within that gaze, lips struggling to move and finally giving up to remain pressed together.

Angelo knew that look. "Mm." Angelo gave a noncommittal nod towards Santos. Angelo willingly opened up the connection for them to express without means of any others grasping it. Boots clunked hard as he turned and slammed his back against the wall beside Santos, his guitar carefully pulled around to rest against his lower stomach and protected as if it was life and death to keep the precious instrument from the damage of smashing to the wall with his person. With lips around the clove, they only half parted to exhale the smoke back into the night air. His blue eyes closed, the scene unfolding as if it was happening all over again.

The exchange flowed to Angelo, Santos holding nothing back to share it all from the perspective of Santos' own eyes. It coalesced and danced into view together with scent of smoke and beer and cheap perfume. The sounds of voices and grunts and shifting of fabric, the feel of a hand against his chest and shove sending Santos' back a foot, and the lingering flavor of beer mingling with blood when Santos bit his own lip to avoid a scene within the bar itself. Angelo experienced it all, even the pressure of the touch of that hand on his chest and the feel of feet shuffling back. Even the tangy taste of blood on his tongue was as vivid as if it were Angelo's own. "Mm.." Eyes opened, half-lidded, and another slow inhale of the clove and just as slow exhale. The union of senses between himself and Santos was something Angelo would never grow tired of. It was a highlight of the night to sometimes link with Santos and find him in the city, be it that he was close or far.

Santos exhaled a huff. The moment had been the final nail in the coffin for the object of his ire as it were. The clove filled his senses, another soothing element for the frayed nerves. Not nearly enough to settle him completely but rage slowly melted into anger. Eyes focused on Angelo, narrowed as a promise was settled upon. Let the male come from the club, let the male make its final mistake. Santos' fist against clenched, this time imagining the feel of that throat collapsing under his grip. A slow smile touched his lips but was not found anywhere near his cold, anger-filled, eyes.

The source of the argument was vague but bits of feeling lingered hinting that perhaps the very source was the figure leaning next to Santos against the wall sucking on that clove. A careless word initiated, more followed, eventually the shove and then Santos' exit. Emotions ran high tonight, the norm when there was someone that needed a lesson dealt. Angelo was starting to believe that his nights would soon be all as such, though it did not cause him much grief but rather pleasure. The sound of grit caught between sole and wall was heard, the whisper of leather joining it as Angelo lifted his booted foot to slid up the wall to find rest in that lean. "Where is he right now?" Blue eyes stayed straight ahead, watching the drifting smoke flow across and then dissipate.

Other than Angelo, none had left the bar since Santos had stalked his way outside. The bulky male still remained inside. Eyes slid away from where Angelo leaned against the wall to track back toward the open end of the alley. Senses attuned to the sound of that door, to the timber of that one voice. Santos was ready for it; ready for the moment the male exited.

Slender digits slid down Angelo's waist and towards the chords of the guitar, giving it a few soft plucks. Angelo had no need to turn his head and glance toward the end of the alley. He chose to let Santos be his eyes. Another gentle pluck and Angelo's lips parted into a feral sort of a smile. It could be another wonderfully eventful night with Santos' temper. Angelo never grew bored when around the other, Santos temper flaring always did bring in means of enjoyment and stalking play. Almost..there, he could sense it was close.

Very close. The door of the club opened, expelling the sounds of life within and the scents inside; recorded music now that Angelo was gone, voices, laughter, sweat, leather and alcohol. The crunch of a boot on the sidewalk and the squeak of the door swinging shut sealed the moment. The club noises once more silenced, the steps more easily heard as the male moved to find his vehicle. Would have to pass the mouth of the alley and Santos pushed from the wall. One step, two and a shadow took him from view. Silence within the alley and then Santo's figure stood in the shadows right there at the mouth of the alley awaiting his opportune moment. Fingers cradled within leather gloves clenched again, yearning for the release to come. It was a subtle movement, an arm - or was it shadow itself - snaked from the alley when the human came within reach. A jerk brought the solid body back into the shadows, a second heave threw the human against the opposite wall. The sound of flesh on brick and grunt from the human drew a faint bit of amusement to Santos' expression.

"Hm." Another exhale sent smoke billowing out through the air. Angelo's smile remained. He chose not to move but rather settled himself into the moment to feel and see through Santos. The sound of that body crashing against the brick, it was music. Such a beautiful symphony of sounds, that hard thud underscored by the possible crack of bones. Angelo all but let out a sound of pleasure for it. A light went out affording more darkness to operate within. Santos felt the presence down the alley and reveled in the union of senses; enjoyed the rush of knowing of Angelo's pleasure from what had transpired thus far. Boot pushed hard on the wall, giving Angelo's body a sudden thrust forward. His heavy footfalls carried him to a point behind Santos. He was the audience now, letting Santos exercise his anger. The clove was soon spat from between lips to the dark road under those booted feet. Angelo slid his guitar around to his back to keep her safe from any possible bloodshed or speckles that may go flying as Santos tended to the man. A tilt of his head and a slight lean of his body, he watched with curious blue eyes. Idle comments circulated within his mind, urges to mutter that Santos could either bash the man's head in the wall or start screwing his brains out.

Santos waited before moving, he allowed the human to spin. Let the encounter draw out. Ahh, there. A dull glint of weak light on the curve of a blade. The human was not unarmed. Angelo's brows lifted when he noted the man was armed. Oh, now this could be very enjoyable indeed.

Santos' attention flickered from the glint of weapon held in the human's meaty hand back up to the face of the human, Santos' own eyes took on a more feral glow as he stalked the human with gaze alone. The human reeked of alcohol and fear. His heart raced in his chest but the human refused to back down. The plateau of prey and predator lasted another heartbeat before the human lunged. At the first hint of forward motion from the human, Santos' figure twisted to the side, both arms tucked in tight against his body as he spun out of the way in a swirling dance of shadows. When Santos spun, Angelo moved enough that he kept out of the line of throwing range, though there was a few times in the past that he did have the pleasure of being in the way and ended up smashed against a wall, glorious as it had been, tonight he did not want another guitar destroyed. Stepping aside, blue eyes closed and lips formed a more tight but plain smile.

As Santos' spin ended, one hand swung around to follow the human and help the human header into the wall by a harsh crack of an inhumanly strong blow between the human's shoulderblades. The sickening crunch of body hitting another wall, it had Angelo's smile growing and his head ticking over to the other side, the dark cascade over one side of his face, but easily blown by night air from over the supple lips that held that smile. "Careful Santos, be done so quickly and then what will you be doing for the rest of the night?" Angelo's laughter was something that echoed through the alley, low and yet full of intent and pleasure. Santos ended his turn with body facing the prey once more, one hand in front of him palm up and the other hand high above his head and behind. The human turned, glaring at Santos. Santos's lips slid into a cold smile, cruel layering his expression, fingers flicked to give the 'come on' gesture.

Angelo's eyes opened, lazy and careless. His hand moved around to gather his guitar and pull her gently to slide to his front, against a well defined hip. Pluck of strings and his eyes stayed on the action at hand. Santos let his eyes stray from the human, eating up the distance between himself and his dark companion. Santos' lips pursed ever so slightly, almost in a pucker aimed for the guitar player.

Attention divided provided an opening for the human. It lunged toward Santos and caught Santos' taller figure in a mid-section tackle. The momentum forced Santos backward across the alley until the wall stopped them. Santos' breath left him momentarily on the glorious rush of pain being caught between the wall and the human caused. Arms curled around the human, fingers digging through cloth to find arms flesh. Santos brought his leg up swiftly, harshly finding soft parts of the human. He was rewarded by the rush of air from the human body. Strong hands flung the human back with force enough to drive him up and through the air to land his back into the brick wall on the other side of the alley. The human's body gave audible sounds of bones breaking, voice crying out in pain as the body slid to slump on the ground. Pain. Something in Santos' own body, abdomen. Santos looked down to find his own blood flowing freely from a lucky land of that human's blade. His fingers brushed the wound, brought blood tinged fingertips to his lips. Tongue appeared to dance over his fingertips, eyes resting hard on the unmoving human. "They are rather fragile." His own voice was dusky, almost hoarse. Eyes swung to where Angelo stood. "It's barely satisfying." His tongue swept over his lower lip, capturing a small bit of blood left from his straying fingertips.

Wine splashed outward in a rush as the aged liquid flowed over Angelo's bare feet. Santos caught Angelo square, his body thrust backward by the force of Santos' shoulder into Angelo's chest; a frustrated grunt joined the sounds of struggle around them. Delicate fingers used to strumming chords and throwing blades caught Santos' shoulders; the rapid sound of Angelo's heart was almost so loud that it could echo in the bindings of the room. A hard press of slender fingers sent nails piercing Santos' flesh. He knew this drill and the floor was not a welcome place for Angelo's back. He refused to be placed there this time. Icy shadows leaped from Angelo's arms to snake toward the bed and find anchor there. His lips parted in a hiss as the pull of those tangible shadows jerked him from Santos' grip, Angelo sailing through the air almost a puppet to the inky shadows that dropped him to the floor on his knees facing the bed; hands on the bed to keep his balance were unseen in the swirl of black that broiled on and over that corner of the bed. A quick turn of his head had narrowed blue eyes waiting to see if Santos was the one to hit the floor.

There came a surprised intake of breath when the flesh of his shoulder was no longer pressing so hard into Angelo's sweet body as they sailed through the air on target for landing firmly on the floor. Santos turned his head as his own body twisted in mid air, eyes trying to lock onto Angelo. Angelo's hands lifted from the shadow as it faded from sight planting instead on the satin sheets. Angelo let out a low chuckled breath. Santos was so easily surprised sometimes. A feral growl grunted from Santos in harmony to Angelo's chuckle, the flow of muscle and trained reflexes had him turning so the inky blackness fluttering behind him became his cushion. The crack of bony mantle plainly heard, his face screwed into a mask of momentary pain. It was not a break, merely an unexpected crush of weight. He was barely there a heartbeat before his lips puckered in an almost kiss thrown at Angelo's kneeling body and misty shadows rose from the floor to slither over Santos' figure and draw him within. As the shadow faded, Santos was also gone. Angelo's brows lifted; he was not the only one capable of offering a surprise it seemed. Blue eyes narrowed further, becoming angry slits, as Santos faded from view.

The silence in the room lasted a heartbeat before Santos reappeared. Angelo's head turned to focus on the area he thought Santos would appear again and lips curved for a grin when he watched as Santos' head slowly came into view on the other side of the bed, then the rest of his body as Santos moved predator-like onto the bed. The inky blackness behind him hung limp on one side, his bloodied face twisted into a smile. "Shall I kiss her and make it better?"

"You will get her bloody again." Flicker of a blue-eyed glance toward her, she laid there in all her glory and radiated with a glow that was not by cause of candles alone. "Mm." Angelo's eyes focused on Santos once more. Hands stretched across satin sheets towards the body creeping toward him. Angelo's own body slithered onto the bed.

Santos did not take his eyes from Angelo this time to give the 'her' any notice even if his words were about the 'her'. "She loves it." His tongue again out to tease, sliding over bloody lips more for show than to actually cleanse. Mouth sliding into a smirking smile.

"Where is the next?" The whisper came from parted lips. Approaching from the opposite side of the bed, his attention remained on Santos; tongue swiped over his bottom lip more focused on the shade of red that covered Santos' face. The thoughts of being happy curling there and doing nothing but lick that off for hours presented itself.

Santos' head tipped to the side, inky shroud dragging behind him as he moved. Since arriving, time had not yet been given to resettling things into their proper place and now with the throbbing ache, time more would pass before it could occur. A shiver, a flutter of darkness heard like sweet silk in a warm breeze. Raspy voice whispered, "I have not been given one yet." Another forward shift of his shirtless body, muscles rippling as he drew closer yet to Angelo. "But you'll do."

Angelo's smile curved and set at those whispered words that he would do for Santos. Other than the temporary one screaming below there was no other for Angelo although he fully enjoyed the haunting echos of the pleas for freedom from below rising in sweet melody, the memory of how Angelo had left his own teeth and nail marks on it with wounds that slowly pulsed its own life from within only added to the sweetness of the song. "Mm." Angelo slid himself closer over the satin sheets, the leather hugging his lower half eased and slicked forward. His shoulders pointed forward and blue eyes glowered at Santos in his bed. Angelo paused when he was mere inches away, his expression changing; lips pursed together with a faint puckering. His eyes caressed over Santos' face. He had no doubt in his mind that Santos' brutal touch could bring him into a pleasuring and glorious moment. "Then do it." Deep voice spilled forth in a rush of exhaled breath.

Angelo knew what was coming and welcomed it; he could feel the coiling of muscle in Santos' shoulder just before Santos' hand flashed outward at the invitation, fingers aiming to grasp Angelo by his precious throat. The grip was tight, vice-like, and eager to snuff the light of life from Angelo's body. At the clench of those fingers sound erupted from Angelo's open mouth; a groan mixed with a grunt in the effort to try and pull air back into his lungs. With an excited rush Angelo found that the grip was far too tight for that breath. His own hands lifted to give a shove for Santos' shoulders. It was all part of the game, it helped spur Santos on and get him more into the role of crushing the life right from Angelo. Fingers caught hold and dug nails into Santos' flesh as the struggle continued.

Santos brought his face close to Angelo's, lips almost brushing Angelo's cheek as he raspy words were place in Angelo's ear, "I will, the only question is how." Tongue darted out to snake up Angelo's cheek as his fingers tightened with clear intent. Santos moved his head only enough to allow hungry eyes to devour Angelo's face, lips curling into a smile. He leaned in closer, mouth claiming Angelo's with a crushing force, tongue ready to bully its way inside Angelo's mouth even as Santos' shifted to twist Angelo around. Angelo found his mouth forced further open to allow that tongue. His own darted forward, pushing at Santos' still into the role of encouraging Santos to continue. Had Angelo been able to breathe, Santos may have been given a proper and punishing kiss, but as it was, Angelo found himself trying to hang on to his own existence a few moments longer to prolong the game.

The bully of the moment, Santos had the upper hand. He shifted position and used his grip on Angelo's neck to maneuver Angelo. The intent was to plant Angelo on the bed next to his precious guitar and Santos was ready to flow his body onto Angelo's in order to further the dominance of the moment. Angelo's body twisted and ended up planted just as Santos wanted. The dark shroud that flowed with Santos fluttered then settled around them, the depths of that darkness all but swallowing the meager flickers of the candlelight. The kiss continued, deepened even as Santos' fingers clenched tighter around Angelo's throat.

Angelo's hands fell from Santos' shoulders to land on the satin sheets. Curled fingers clawing there in the silky softness. His hips pushed upward into Santos, perhaps meaning to somehow get Santos' body hit in a way to cause pain from the impact. Santos pressed his own body down harder into Angelo at the attempt of pleasing bodily impact. A little grunt entered the kiss between them as pain flared for a moment. The rumbling of a chuckling growl mingled with that grunt, flowing into the contact of lips on lips. Santos let the moments stretch one from another, a hard grind of his own hips given to drive down into Angelo. Santos could feel the heartbeat beneath him through the kiss, could feel the struggle within Angelo. It drove him to tighten his grip even more until words from nights some time past taunted his consciousness, words that had come from the very mouth he now plundered, "Careful Santos, be done so quickly and then what will you be doing for the rest of the night?" To these echoing words, Santos lifted his head, eyes enjoying the struggle for life displayed in the expressions playing over Angelo's features. Santos allowed his fingers to loosen slightly, allowing a single lungful of air.

Blue eyes grew more faint of colour as Santos' fingers gripped tighter around his throat. Angelo could feel it through the link between them. He found an echo of himself looking down at his own face through Santos' eyes with Santos' hands around his own neck. The rush it caused; he could feel how it made Santos feel, to enjoy how wonderful it felt to have something powerful and full of life start to slip off to the afterworld and to be the cause of that journey. Unfortunately with the slow trickle of his own life being squeezed from him it was getting difficult to hold that link. It was agony to suddenly lose that last tendril of the connection and to be thrust back into his own singular body. His lungs burned, craving air. The seconds ticked by, would darkness come soon? At the feel of fingers loosening, Angelo's mouth opened farther and sucked inward a wheezing inhale. A cough followed it and a gagging sound. Angelo's hands flew from the satin, fingers clamping fiercely on Santos' wrists.

A whisper of a laugh left Santos in response to Angelo's hands clamping on his wrists. Not enough yet, apparently. In spite of this, Santos released his grip a bit more. He did not want to give up his grip but he would allow a slightly deeper breath. Better to let it drag on, no? His tongue danced over his lips, some of the blood that had been sticky there left as a gift on Angelo's own skin during the kiss. How much more could Angelo take this time? Santos' lips parted slightly as Santos swiftly leaned forward into the press, fingers retaking the firm grip around Angelo's neck. The better question was not given courtesy of thought: Could Santos stop this time when Angelo had really had enough?