Danny and Rusty stood on the Ponte Santa Trìnita doing some discreet surveillance. Danny's hands were in his pockets, the sun warm on the top of his head and the tips of his ears. The Arno was a turbid brown where it wasn't glittering like old, foggy glass. There was a Gelateria in sight, and yet Rusty Ryan was eating powdered sugar mini doughnuts from a box.
Rusty finished a doughnut and sucked the powdered sugar from his fingertips, letting his tattooed thumb slide out of his mouth with a pop. There was a dusting of powder over Rusty's top lip and in the corners of his mouth.
"You're seeing this?" Rusty asked.
"Uh huh," Danny said without looking over his shoulder. He could see what was happening perfectly well in Rusty's mirrored sunglasses.
"It's pathetic," Rusty said. "I almost feel bad stealing from someone this incompetent."
"No, you don't," Danny said.
"Maybe a little."
"Not one iota," Danny countered.
Rusty's smile was quick and bright. "That's why I have you."
Danny made a motion. "You've got--"
Rusty licked his lips, and managed to miss the sugar entirely.
Danny considered the situation. It was fashion week, and he was unlikely to draw more attention than Rusty's shiny yellow pants had already gotten them. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Rusty's, kissing the powder away and licking at the seam of his lips. It was almost innocent until Rusty opened his mouth, because Rusty was a filthy kisser, unsurprising for a man with such a dedicated oral fixation.
Rusty's kisses were sloppy and obscenely loud, all liquid and in-drawn breath, and the perfectly placed scrape of teeth until Danny was fully distracted.
"I hate powdered sugar," Danny said, his voice gone rough.
Rusty smirked and ate another doughnut.