So...what was the deleted paulxangelo fic you downloaded 👀🤲🏻
i could prob copy/paste the whole thing here, but just in case you already have it, u read 'The Parable of Jojo and the Lone Wolf' by anon? went like this
Summary:
After the shadow puppets are gone, Primo makes his own fun and teaches Angelo some
things about himself along the way.
“I know you’re still listening,” he says, looking over at Angelo. “What did he just say?”
The floorboards creak as Angelo takes a tentative step forward and finds his voice again.
“Something about how there’s nobody like you.”
And Primo has to laugh too.
He's right, of course. Thank god.
“Nobody like me,” Primo repeats, and drags another filthy kiss across Paul’s mouth just to scratch up his skin some more.
He pulls away, and satisfaction tugs at him like an unraveling string when Paul tries to chase his mouth.
“I bet you like to kiss boys like him instead,” Primo nods towards Angelo. After a moment of silence, he says, “Well? Ask him.”
Angelo jerkily shakes his head only once, like his stiff neck can’t manage any more. His eyes are wide and pleading with Primo to have mercy, but it makes Primo want to bully him some more.
“What’s the matter?” he asks. By now, Paul is looking over his shoulder at Angelo. Primo wonders if the other boy can see the puffiness of his lips in the low light. “Don’t you want to know if he’ll give you a chance?”
“Why would he?” Angelo says in an embarrassed huff, turning his face towards the door as if he’s thinking about leaving.
But he won’t. He’s too obedient. And even if he wasn’t, Paul’s orbit is too strong.
Primo nudges Paul’s chin to turn his face back towards him and then gestures at Angelo. He speaks in English again, since Angelo is no help right now. “He’s handsome.”
“Uh,” Paul glances back at the other boy who is now staring at Primo with wide, betrayed eyes behind those glasses of his. “Handsome. Yeah. Bellissimo.”
“Uomo bello,” Primo says, shooting a sharp grin at Angelo that widens when Paul repeats him with a nod and a small smile.“You shouldn’t teach him things,” Angelo mutters, folding his restless arms across his chest as he paces across the floor. “The less he understands, the better.”
“Right, and you wouldn’t want to be put out of a job,” Primo says, curving his hand over the back of Paul’s head. His dirty hair feels soft, against the odds. Like some animal part of himself is starting to thrive out here. “Then it would just be me and our little jackpot here.”
Paul pipes up between them, saying something to Angelo that Primo vaguely approximates to praise. Whatever it is, it makes Angelo’s face crumple like he’s being tortured. Poor thing is getting hit with too much too fast, it would seem.
Primo wants to hit him with more.
“Come here, come here,” he waves Angelo over impatiently. “You’re going to burn straight through the floor of this shithole, pacing around like that.”
Angelo freezes in apprehension like a lonely fawn playing dead for a hungry wolf.
“It’s okay,” Paul says, as if he could possibly know that for certain. He’s the youngest of them. He’s the captive, for god’s sake, and yet he acts like it's his place to reassure his kidnapper. Primo really has no idea what to think of this kid. It’s amazing nobody else stole him away first.
But he says it with such conviction that Angelo is helpless not to believe him. Primo’s mouth quirks in a crooked grin as he watches Angelo approach.
It’s time to remind these boys who they’re dealing with.
Once Angelo is close enough to them, Paul reaches up for him with a sweet smile on his lips, all for Angelo. Primo takes advantage of the distraction to shove Paul away, sending him rocking backwards with a confused yelp. Primo doesn’t miss the flash of betrayal across Paul’s face. For just a second, he turns into an unloved child right in front of Primo, baffled and betrayed by someone who had lulled him into expecting some approximation of warmth.
And a second later, Primo is reaching out for Angelo’s wrist, tugging the boy down with a hard yank that practically makes his knees buckle. There’s a moment of bewildered flailing as Primo manhandles Angelo where he wants him, but Angelo folds much more easily than Paul did in that sunflower field. He knows exactly who he’s dealing with, and he’s not stupid enough to think he can fight free of the firm hands that arrange him so his back is pressed to
Primo’s chest, with Primo’s arm locked around his middle.
