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Virgil grabbed Tango roughly by his suit's collar, lifting him off the floor. The shorter man didn't break eye contact, his grin only turning more egregious, his legs not even bothering to sway. He held himself still and tense, as if vying for a reaction. If he was, he got one in the form of Virgil throwing him down. Tango hit the wall, his shoulders taking the brunt of the blow. His hands found the chair, grasping onto it to support himself.
"You're- there's something seriously fucking wrong with you," Virgil's voice was low, almost but not quite angry. Tango's stupid, sultry laugh filled the kitchen, sliding one of his hands up to his suit collar.
"There very well could be, why's it matter?" Tango pressed against the wall, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He hummed as he watched the vigilante's face burn, the rage doing nothing to hide his fluster. "You know… you're pretty cute all covered in blood, ehe."
That one ticked him off, Virgil shoved his hand into Tango's hair, shoving him down. The soft, smooth material against the wall made a scratching sound that the taller man found himself enjoying far too much for what it was. His hands were bloody, admittedly. He was pretty covered in the splatter, he had forced himself into the hermit's house and killed him, as well as those he deemed as visitors. He checked Tango's signs, his teeth worried him, but the fact he burned and bled with too much ease for him to be a visitor had convinced him that he wasn't. Adrenaline still ran through his body, the justified paranoia coursing it through his circulatory system, but Tango's lack of fear struck through it anyhow. Hands met his pantline, his eyes shooting down to meet Tango's eyes, his pupils wider than before.
Virgil couldn't tell who swallowed, his ears beginning to ring as he found himself… not stopping the man below him. Tango's thumb and middle finger slowly zipped down before reaching to pull down, but Virgil stopped him.
"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was still aggressive, the only audible change being a slight shudder between the words. Tango hesistated, concern drifting into his mind. Perhaps he had, in fact, overstepped. Before he could get too worried, Virgil had grabbed hold of him again. He was pulled back with one hand, getting to watch as the man shoved his pants down just past his boxers.
"I think y-" Tango didn't even get to finish his sentence before Virgil had pulled his head forward, pushing him against his crotch. When he had opened his mouth to ask a question, Virgil only pushed harder. Tango knew how to take a hint and brought his tongue to the man's boxers, licking around the bulge pressing against his mouth. Virgil grinded to the wet sensation, pushing Tango harder against the wall. A sharp whine had pushed its way out of the blond man's mouth, muffled nonetheless. He could feel the building pressure, it wasn't a pain he particularly liked, but he'd allow it for the furthering of this moment.
"Shut- up, just be good," Virgil's tone was bitter, but no longer angry or aggressive. He held one arm at the wall to keep himself as he chased that wet warmth. He swallowed hard and pulled back, taking his hand out of Tango's hair to pull his dick out of his boxers. He just as roughly as before dug into Tango's hair again, making the man moan. Maybe it wasn't direct contact, but the idea of Virgil's dick touching him at all was more than just a pleasant dream. His eyes were locked to the tip, mouth ajar. The vigilante glared, his face burning a darker red. He hated how much he was enjoying this, hated how eager Tango was. "You're fucking disgusting."
Virgil pulled Tango's head back, opening his mouth to push his dick into him. The taste of it all flooded Tango's senses, the skin, the grime, he'd chase it for a thousand lifetimes. Tango teared up as he sucked and swallowed, more happy than he's been in years. Virgil was biting down hard at his jaw, holding back the majority of the moans that followed him thrusting hard into the other man.