Aut Caesar aut nihil.

"Not gay for starters," Alex bites out, straddling Cesare lap somewhat uncomfortably, one foot still on the ground, the other leg bent and his knee half digging into Cesare's thigh, half sliding between the sofa cushions. He curls a hand into the lapel of Cesare's shirt for balance. The pants are firmly on, thank you very much, and he scratches his fingernails along Cesare's chest thanks to access, opportunity and the cloudy irritation already on Cesare's face.