[ he's a bit miffed when heracles leaves him in the bathroom, half undressed and half hard, but once heracles returns with something he most definitely recognizes, he's a little thankful one of them had the foresight to realize they might need it. he doesn't say anything about it, just eyes the bottle knowingly before his attention returns to heracles. he steps out of his remaining clothes, watching heracles do the same with the hungry eyes that could only belong to a predator. heracles is a different kind of prey now, though. less literal food, more metaphorical. ]
[ he almost wants to reconsider how metaphorical with a crack like that, but it's hardly unexpected from heracles. the fact that he's even come to expect it and not entirely hate it as much as he probably should ... well, that's another thing he'd rather just ignore. heracles' jabs used to incite him to anger almost immediately, but now they're almost ... something. it's almost as if leon has grown fond, which is decidedly not good. ]
[ it's difficult not to roll his eyes again, but somehow he manages. ] Do I look like a cat right now? [ if he were, he'd probably be less inclined to get wet; he hates getting his fur completely wet unless it's absolutely necessary. but there's something strangely relaxing about the human ritual of bathing — or, in this case, arousing. the two aren't mutually exclusive. ]
[ he follows heracles into the shower, closing the door behind him. he watches the water trail down heracles' chest for a moment, and then he closes the remaining distance, kissing him open-mouthed, his hands carding through wet hair. ]
[ during the brief moment where leon watches heracles, heracles watches him back, his gaze traveling from leon's collarbone down, down, returning to his face a second before their mouths meet. his eyes close, his lashes already wet, and his hands find leon's hips, dragging him that much closer. the way leon looked at him like a hungry predator is branded on his memory, and while it should unnerve him, the truth is that it makes his heart race for an entirely different reason. hot water beats against his back, and he sweeps his tongue over the roof of leon's mouth and catches his bottom lip between his teeth. ]
Mm, [ he hums as he breaks the kiss, ] definitely not a cat. Otherwise we wouldn't be doing this.
[ his hands give leon's ass a squeeze, while the other sneaks between their bodies and wraps around their cocks. heracles may be the son of zeus, but he draws the line at animal fucking. he strokes them together; the heat and friction of skin on skin, even when it's reduced by the water, makes his blood rush. when he leans in for another kiss, he pries leon's lips apart with his tongue and feeds a moan into his mouth. ]
[ the thought we shouldn't be doing this crosses his mind, and not for the first time. but like all the other times, leon ignores it in favor of the feel of heracles against him, even if he knows one day it isn't going to end this well. they've always been fated; he just isn't sure which side of the metaphorical coin they're going to land on this time. heads: heracles kills leon. tails: leon kills heracles. perhaps in doing this, in claiming some part of heracles for his own in this physical, visceral way, this is his small act of defiance toward the preordained. he's done being used by the gods. using heracles feels like a win, for now. ]
[ he groans in response, his arm snaking around heracles' shoulder to keep himself upright, his knees dangerously close to buckling under heracles' touch. in a more private space as this, where there are no neighboring ears to overhear through the thinness of the dormitory walls, leon is more inclined to be more vocal, his breaths coming out in a series of moans, having very quickly forgotten about the purpose of a shower. he wonders if heracles had ever really intended to clean off, or if this is just the preamble. either way, he finds he doesn't particularly care, as long as heracles keeps stroking them together. ]
Herc — [ it sounds somewhat strangled, mostly because halfway through the first syllable leon realized what was coming out of his mouth and made a rather poor attempt to change course, which cut off the word entirely, leaving it sounding almost like he'd meant to say it like that. he realizes, also, in the space between having said it and left it hanging in the air, that it's the first time he's ever spoken heracles' name during one of their rendezvous, and he desperately hopes heracles will ignore it. perhaps if he reminds heracles why he's here... with a somewhat frustrated grunt, he pulls away just enough to say, ] Just fuck me already.
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[ he almost wants to reconsider how metaphorical with a crack like that, but it's hardly unexpected from heracles. the fact that he's even come to expect it and not entirely hate it as much as he probably should ... well, that's another thing he'd rather just ignore. heracles' jabs used to incite him to anger almost immediately, but now they're almost ... something. it's almost as if leon has grown fond, which is decidedly not good. ]
[ it's difficult not to roll his eyes again, but somehow he manages. ] Do I look like a cat right now? [ if he were, he'd probably be less inclined to get wet; he hates getting his fur completely wet unless it's absolutely necessary. but there's something strangely relaxing about the human ritual of bathing — or, in this case, arousing. the two aren't mutually exclusive. ]
[ he follows heracles into the shower, closing the door behind him. he watches the water trail down heracles' chest for a moment, and then he closes the remaining distance, kissing him open-mouthed, his hands carding through wet hair. ]
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Mm, [ he hums as he breaks the kiss, ] definitely not a cat. Otherwise we wouldn't be doing this.
[ his hands give leon's ass a squeeze, while the other sneaks between their bodies and wraps around their cocks. heracles may be the son of zeus, but he draws the line at animal fucking. he strokes them together; the heat and friction of skin on skin, even when it's reduced by the water, makes his blood rush. when he leans in for another kiss, he pries leon's lips apart with his tongue and feeds a moan into his mouth. ]
no subject
[ he groans in response, his arm snaking around heracles' shoulder to keep himself upright, his knees dangerously close to buckling under heracles' touch. in a more private space as this, where there are no neighboring ears to overhear through the thinness of the dormitory walls, leon is more inclined to be more vocal, his breaths coming out in a series of moans, having very quickly forgotten about the purpose of a shower. he wonders if heracles had ever really intended to clean off, or if this is just the preamble. either way, he finds he doesn't particularly care, as long as heracles keeps stroking them together. ]
Herc — [ it sounds somewhat strangled, mostly because halfway through the first syllable leon realized what was coming out of his mouth and made a rather poor attempt to change course, which cut off the word entirely, leaving it sounding almost like he'd meant to say it like that. he realizes, also, in the space between having said it and left it hanging in the air, that it's the first time he's ever spoken heracles' name during one of their rendezvous, and he desperately hopes heracles will ignore it. perhaps if he reminds heracles why he's here... with a somewhat frustrated grunt, he pulls away just enough to say, ] Just fuck me already.