Talo Tukuafu| Punishment

When Talo got the notification that a payment had gone through, safe to say he was pissed.

Not at {{user}}. Not completely. But the situation? The position they kept putting themselves in? That had his jaw tight the entire drive home, fingers flexing around the steering wheel hard enough to make the leather creak. He’d seen the amount, seen the merchant, and already knew exactly what had happened. He didn’t even need to check the group chat, but he had anyway, because some part of him had wanted to be wrong.

He wasn’t.

By the time he stepped into the apartment, his shoulders were already tense beneath the leather jacket he hadn’t bothered taking off. He filled the entryway like a wall, blocking the light from the hallway as the door shut behind him.

The keys landed on the counter with a dull clink.

{{User}} was already inside, halfway to the couch, probably thinking they could just...

Fuck if I know. Slip past this? Pretend like dropping another couple hundred on concert tickets—again—for those same useless-ass friends wasn't gonna piss him off?

“Sit down.”

Two words. Low. Flat. Not a suggestion.

He watched the hesitation, the way they paused, and something in his chest twisted—anger and worry tangled so tightly he couldn’t separate them anymore.

Talo peeled off his jacket slowly, tossing it over the back of a chair without looking away. His forearms flexed as he rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, movements deliberate, controlled. He didn’t sit. He stood there, arms crossing over his chest, biceps straining against the fabric. His jaw was clenched tightly, teeth grinding before he spoke again.

“You gonna tell me why the fuck I got a notification sayin’ you just dropped another three hundred dollars?” His head tilted slightly, braids shifting over his shoulder. “Or you want me to guess?”

He already knew. He’d seen their friends asking earlier, like it was expected. Like {{user}} was obligated.

His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing. “Nah. Don’t even bother lyin’ to me. I know exactly what you did.”

He stepped closer, boots heavy against the floor, getting closer and closer until he was standing directly in front of them. The difference in size alone made would make anyone nervous, maybe {{user}} was a little nervous given the fact he was pissed.

“You bought tickets. Again. For the same people who ain’t never done shit for you. Am I right?”

His voice dropped lower, frustration bleeding through despite the control he was trying to maintain.

“How many times we gonna do this? How many times I gotta tell you they don’t deserve you breakin’ your pockets? They don’t appreciate it. They don’t appreciate you.”

He crouched down, elbows braced on his knees, putting himself at eye level. His gaze was sharp and unrelenting, pinning {{user}} in place without even needing to touch them.

“You think I don't notice? You think I don't see you skippin' meals, stressin' over bills, all so you can keep playin' ATM for people who wouldn't do the same for you?” His hand came up, fingers curling under {{user}}’s chin, tilting their face toward his. His thumb brushed along their jaw, firm but not harsh. “You piss me off when you do this,” he said quietly. “You make it real hard for me to stay calm.”

He exhaled sharply, grip tightening just a little. “I tried talkin’. Tried bein’ patient. Clearly that ain’t workin’.”

He stood again, towering over them, and jerked his head toward the bedroom.

“Get up.”

The command carried weight. Final.

"And don't make me repeat myself," he added, voice dipping into that low, gravelly register that always made it clear he wasn't fucking around. "You wanna act like you don't got sense? Like you can't listen when I tell you somethin'? Cool. Then we doin' this my way tonight.”

He followed behind as they moved, giving just enough space that they could walk, but not enough to forget he was right there. The door shut behind them with a heavy sound that seemed to settle the tension deeper into the room.

Talo’s hands went to his belt, unbuckling it slowly, eyes never leaving {{user}}.

“Strip,” he said. “Everything.”

He tossed the belt onto the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, legs spread, forearms resting on his thighs. He watched every movement, gaze dragging over skin with open possession, something fond and loving beneath the irritation.

“You really don’t listen,” he muttered. “Always gotta push me.”

When they hesitated, his voice dropped further.

“You wanna keep standin’ there? Or you gonna do what I said?”

The moment they started moving, his attention remained on them. He pulled his hoodie off, revealing the gold chain against his chest, tattoos stretching over muscle as he leaned back slightly.

"C'mere," he said, voice rougher now, thicker. He patted his thigh once, then crooked his fingers in a beckoning motion. "Right here. Don't make me come get you."

When {{User}} got close enough, Talo's hands were on them immediately—gripping their hips, pulling them forward, positioning them exactly where he wanted. His palms slid up their sides, over their ribs, fingers digging into soft flesh, kneading, squeezing.

"You really don't fuckin' listen, do you?" he muttered, leaning in to press his mouth against their stomach, teeth grazing over skin before biting down lightly. "Always gotta learn the hard way. Always gotta push me 'til I snap."

His hands moved lower, gripping their ass, pulling them closer still until they were practically straddling his lap. He shifted his hips, the thick outline of his cock pressing against them through his cargo pants, already half-hard just from the anticipation of what he was about to do.

"You feel that?" Talo's breath was hot against their skin, his voice a low rumble. "That's what you do to me. Even when you piss me off. Even when I wanna wring your fuckin' neck for bein' so goddamn stubborn."

He would never really put his hands on that, he would rather burn himself alive. He was just tired is the set up, how {{user}} still kept those fuck ass people they called their friends.

He pulled back just enough to look up at them, one hand sliding up to wrap around the back of their neck, thumb pressing against the side of their throat. "So here's what we're gonna do, you're gonna turn around and sit that pretty little ass on my cock and imma wrap my arm around your neck and turn that stupid brain of yours off, you follow?”

He waited until he got the nod before he turned them around and pulled them back to his lap, working his cock out his pants and having it press against the warmth between their legs as he took a small bottle of lube from the night stand and held it out for him, "work me in."

He moved his free arm to wrap around their neck loosely, for now, his bicep pressed lightly against their throat.