counterattack | A LAWFUL WASTELAND

[ it's December 8. Law turns 18 today. at this point, he's been living in Copalli for over a year. during the final relic fiasco, he achieved trance within about five seconds (because it's basically overlimit) and faced Tiamat in her castle because he had a score to settle with dragons (dragons, wyverns, same shit) and had enough taking shit from these mother fucking guardians in this mother fucking jungle. it was epic.

anyway, it's a few months later and Law lives in Tikal again, down at the bottom of the crater. they've built bridges and pulleys aboveground, as well as created a system to keep the crater from filling with water when it rains. although most of his farm was lost during Tikal's fall, he's rebuilt it bigger and better than ever and repopulated it with even more chickens, hogs, cows and even a few semi-domesticated mist monsters. there's also proper crops, probably due in part to at least one friend or another planting on the huge expanse of land he's set up there. he also rebuilt the inn that collapsed on top of him back then, and this time it's actually finished. he got a local business manager to help run the place and they export animal products and crops all over Copalli. the inn is booming. it's great.

all is well.

except now it's his birthday and Law is just trying to go about his business like he doesn't know that, strapping on his fancy wolf gauntlets and shouldering a big pack of supplies to go make some delivery trips to the other cities. nothin' to see here, not ya lil dude all growed up, a solid 5'9" (and a half) with some cool tribal tats done over his wyvern scars and something of a more mature countenance, buuuuuttt still the dweebo dorkus doofus meathead he's always been.

ANYWAY, THIS IS #LATERGRAM INCENSEDVERSE. medallion him, meet him at any of the cities, fight monsters together on the road, pretend there was a party planned that he's trying to sneak out of showing up to, WHATEVER WORKS. ]

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From:

counterattack

[ Law "holds on" like a dog sticking half their body out the window—hands on Gladio's shoulders, chin lifted, waiting to see where they'll go (and if that tail is wagging just a little bit, mind your business). He laughs as they land, knees splaying so that he lands with them on either side of Gladio's thighs, straddling him, and fortunately holding himself up so he doesn't collapse down overtop of him. Before he can say anything, their mouths meet, that laughter is swallowed up and reduced down to a low hnn, hnnn of a hum, warm and affectionate. ]

Mmm... do we...?

[ Lifting his head, he glimpses the daylight coming in through the window and determines based on the fact that, yep, it's still light outside, that he's got plenty of time. All the time in the world. Ahh, it'll be fine! There were no solid, time-specific plans for him to be anywhere, it's no big deal. Grinning, he has to rein himself in to kiss him again. And then again, just for good measure. ]

Yeah, we got time. Okay, ah... ngh, hang on.

[ You know what's in his way? His stupid shirt. Sleeveless and loose-fitting, with a high, open collar and open up the sides, too, but at this angle, it hangs down, baggy and a nuisance. Time for it to come off. He sits up only slightly, just enough to grab it at the back of his neck and tug it off over his head, then shrugs it aside. And is that on purpose? For a purpose? Divesting himself of his clothes to make a point or to show off? It probably would've been if he were sober, but drunk Law doesn't even think about it, isn't worried about what Gladio will think of his physique, about his scars or his tattoos, the gashes from the wyvern that nearly took off his left arm or the jagged, ugly line that runs across his belly as if someone had run a knife across him to disembowel him (close, but not quite). He's not concerned about how he compares, for once. As if he needs to be, hoo boy. Kid could cut diamonds on those arms and that stomach. But no, yeah, he just wants the shirt out of the way.

Once it is, he settles back in, head tilting as he tries to decide where to start. His fingers travel up, idly, to touch the places Gladio had marked, considering how it'd felt when he did it, and then decides that, to start off, he'll try to do the same and then get creative from there. In his case, though, he starts right at the throat, exhaling hotly and just a little shakily before he seals his lips around a patch of skin there and sucks. A moment or two, then he pulls back to study his work, considers, and shifts slightly to the side to try again, longer this time. And harder. ]

Does that... feel like anything?

From:

indeferent

_{[ It's amazing how something so "small" draws out such a big reaction out of Gladio. Each little kiss leaves him wanting more and yeah, so maybe he's definitely in Touchy-Gladio mode now but listen. Listen. Shut up. The presence of Touchy-Gladio means that he's pliant in all the right ways and more than willing to fall into whatever line is needed. If Law were to command him to kneel? Six, he might "protest" but he'd be there in a heartbeat. As things are he's plenty happy to look up at him through heavy lashes after he pulls away to sit up, both of Gladio's hands moving to settle at the top of either thigh and roaming from knee to waist. Law says to hang on, then he's waiting. He's patient. Wound tight, but patient.

All of that nearly goes out the damned window once his top comes off. They've seen each other practically buck ass naked before without any problems but this is different. This is in a way that's meant Only For Gladio's Eyes and while he stares at him like one of Copalli's wonders, he's already on the move. One hand shifts from a thigh to grasp a hip while the other moves higher, rough and wide fingers splaying out across the jagged line on his stomach. They've both been through hell, haven't they? Only... Gladio's biggest scars came from Eos, not here.

His thumb sweeps along the length of it from start to end even as Law bends forward to go for the throat - literally. He doesn't make any noise beyond a slow, pleased exhale, his head craning back that much more to expose everything he can. Then the second one comes, and that's when a soft noise slips out on his next breath. Right... there. Yeah, there. It's a damn shame when Law pulls back, but the dull throb tells him he'll have something nice to look at when it comes in. ]}

Good. Good—Gimme another one.

_{[ The hand at the first scar moves further up to seek out the next patch. They find the bottom of the mess left behind by the wyvern, and this time his touch holds something akin to reverence. The contrast of rough scar tissue and soft skin has him swallowing around air and for a moment it makes him think of the gash across his own torso. Was it still just as sensitive around the deeper spots? Would it be too much if it were? They're all questions floating aorund Gladio's mind, and none of them are ones he can form words for just yet. So for now, he settles for casual brushes and exploratory fingers until he reaches the tangle up by his shoulder. Then higher, up and up to cover the nape of his neck. Guiding him. ]}

Try a little lower. Space 'em out.

From:

counterattack

[ The intake of breath isn't quite a gasp, but it's audible, and Law catches himself squirming, not at all in a bad way, when Gladio takes hold of his hip like that. No, it's the can't hold still, that feels so good kind of squirming, distracting enough that he presses his forehead to Gladio's clavicle so he can tilt his chin down just take a second to look. It may not be much in the grand scheme of things, as salacious as putting his hands somewhere else, but evidently he likes his hips held, and for another, that's a very sensitive scar. Physically, and emotionally, too.

It's the first one he ever really got when he came to Copalli, and the one that nearly took him out within his first month of being here. It's the one he's made the most effort to hide from everyone else, which, all things considered, had been pretty easy since it rests just below the belt line, and ain't nobody seen him in such a state until now (look, these pants sit lower than his usual ones do, ok). It's the one his father gave him when they'd found each other in the halls of Tezcatli, both of them transformed, after he'd goaded him and attacked him and challenged him. It's the only time the incense had ever pushed Zephyr far enough to harm his own son, and he'd nearly torn him irreparably apart. It's the one he rested a hand over when he said no, you didn't hurt me, because it wasn't his fault, and he could never admit that it happened. And it's also the one he feels he deserves the most, so seeing Gladio touch it now, reverent, exploring, is kind of... an experience. It feels kind of... like he's being absolved, a little bit.

His eyes return to Gladio's face, cheeks a little red, his smile just a hair uncertain—and then, encouraged, it widens. ]

Yeah? Okay, what about... here, or... here?

[ Lower. Law shifts, moving his mouth to the junction of where Gladio's neck and shoulder meet, and tests that place with his tongue before he makes a mark there. That, to him, feels like an even more satisfying place to put his mouth, his own stomach muscles drawing up tight as he peppers that same place with a few different ones, some dark, some barely there. Oh—oops. Spread out, he said. So he shifts to his collar, trying it right on the prominent bone. Mm, not so easy to make a mark there, nah. Just underneath it? That's better. And right between them, that works too.

That went well, so what about... even lower? His gaze flicks up just for a second, then he scoots down an inch or two so he can leave a real good one right on the swell of Gladio's pec, not more than a few centimeters from the beak of that bird. When he lifts his head and realizes just how big and dark that one is, he's surprised for one second, then pleased with himself the next. ]

Whoops. Too much?

From:

indeferent

_{[ Oh. He's a fast learner. Another sound slips free and somewhere between the fourth and fifth bite Gladio decides to say fuck it and slides his hand all the way up to tangle in Law's hair. He thinks it's gotten longer since the last time he'd properly mussed with it prior to today, and yet despite the climate it still feels just as soft. Carding his fingers through it is just as easy as it is to do with his own and by the time he starts to leave that good-sized bruise between the eagle's beak and the heavy scar, Gladio's got a good handful of it to gently pull.

Despite what he said, this isn't a call to stop. It's a call of encouragement. ]}

Whoops?

_{[ A huff of laughter and Gladio squeezes his hip again, pressing down with his thumb and rubbing slow, wide circles. It's almost tempting to dip it below the waistband of his pants too, but that may be too much too fast. He doesn't know — all Gladio knows is he fully intends to make sure Law sets his boundaries. What he can do is at least deliver what he asks for, and by the Six he's going to. Another gentle tug to his hair so he can steal a kiss, grinning into it and pulling away to "bite" at the tip of his nose. ]}

Nah. S'not. _{[ Too much, he means. ]} But if you keep going any lower I'm gonna have to flip you over and return 'em in kind.

_{[ Which... really isn't much of a threat, is it? The hand in his hair moves away to take Law by the wrist and moves it to settle over the steady thump of his heart. Or maybe not so steady anymore. It's faster, not quite matching up with the slow rise and fall of his chest but that's a good sign that he's into this. Then he coaxes those fingers to spread and guides them along the thick, dark outline of the eagle's beak. Over the scar. Up over what remains of its upper head, and finally over each little individual feather that disappears under the parts of his jacket that won't move because of his own weight pinning it down. ]}

Remind me to badger you for your secret one of these days. Your hands're real damn soft despite everything you do 'n I'm kinda jealous.

From:

counterattack

[ Finally, Law makes a little noise. It's not that he was trying not to, before, or that he's going to turn out to be such a quiet person when he's fooling around, it's just that nothing had really gotten his goat the way this does. Little gasps, soft murmurs—but this is an out-and-out warble, a moan. That hand in his hair, pulling without yanking on it? Incredible. But the hip? God. That's a sweet spot. He can't even get his head around trying not to writhe, arching, a mess in Gladio's hands. He can't even get his head around being embarrassed about it, either. And why the hell should he? It feels too good for that. He's never really felt good in his life, let him live, god damn. ]

It's... gotta maintain your weapons... same as, y'know... the pointy things.

[ He can't remember what those pointy things are called right now. Something something lotion, blah blah special gloves. His forehead presses to Gladio's, breath harsh in the scant space between their lips. His fingers press into the scar as his hand is guided along, tracing the outer edges of it, and they're trembling a little by the time he makes it to the feathers. Eyes closed, he focuses his attention on feeling rather than seeing, on following the path up to the edge of that jacket, then choosing his own route back down, feeling his way along his chest, the curve of his side, his stomach.

When his eyes peel open again, he takes his hand away only so he can grab hold of the medallion and the chain with his parents' rings hanging from his neck and pull them around so that they're both resting against his back. Then, boldly venturing, he presses himself closer, his weight on his bent elbow, the fingers of that hand finding the space behind Gladio's ear and digging in again, rubbing and scratching. ]

I... should ask you if you wanna take this further. Jus' because I don't think— I don't know if I—

[ ...do? Having second thoughts about how quick this is going? oh honey don't be silly. He might not even be that sensible if he were sober, frankly. ]

—Don't know if I'll be able to stop if you keep—if we keep this up. So, uh... do you?

From:

indeferent

_{[ Gladio's lips part to ask what Law wants: what he really wants, and not what Gladio wants. Shame whatever he's about to say is promptly bodied out of the way in favor of a very low, very noisy rumble that melts into a stuttered moan on an exhale, just like a dog getting a damn good ear scratch. His head tilts into it and his eyes nearly roll back into his skull, his hold tightening on Law that much more while his entire body decides to... basically sort of blue screen for a good minute. That's a different angle and if he were a little more sober he might've been embarrassed at how fast it seems to make his blood rush south, but he's just the right amount of shameless that it's fine. ]}

Fuh...ck. Mmn... Law—

_{[ Just. Give him a minute here for the little brain-Gladios to wrangle a coherent thought. It's hard and in the interim Gladio nearly squirms underneath Law, one long leg moving to bend at the knee and very nearly threatening to flip the both of them over. Nearly, but not quite. He uses his thigh to nudge at his ass, silently pleading for... pretty much whatever he feels like giving. At least in Gladio's own defense he did say he was a Touchy Drunk?

It's another two before he actually does manage to string his words together, and when he forces himself to look up those amber eyes are dark and wanting. Needy, even. Come on, Amicitia. He asked you a question, so answer it. ]}

How— _{Shit, Firecracker... Do that again, please—} How far have you ever...?

_{[ Because he doesn't know how far things went with Prompto, nor does he know if Law has ever cozied up with other people like Gladio has in the past. The locals are fantastic people don't get him wrong, but after he'd started changing he began to keep his distance. It's pretty hard to get it up for someone who tried to actively kill you, you know? The thought of that makes the spot above his tailbone ache, his body remembering the sharp pain of the arrow lodging itself right into the meat of his tail that day. Law, though... Law accepts him for who he is, horns and all. Something in his gut flips and twists into a knot as he wonders — just for a moment — if he'd still take him as that were-creature, too. A classic babe, would you still love me if I was a worm seven foot tall man-behemoth? conundrum if there ever was one. ]}

'Cause... 'Cause I don't wanna rush you into things too fast. All you gotta do is say slow down or stop 'n we'll do that, alright? You wanna keep it to just this, we can. You want more? I'll...

_{[ His eyes fall shut and he leans further into Law's fingers for a moment, exhaling with another quiet moan intermingled with his exhale. There's an ear scratch and then there's an ear scratch. Would it feel this good if he were that beast? Maybe... maybe he'll have to do some experimentation of his own at some point. But focus, Amicitia— He murmurs an apology and another "Feels good", his head tilting back up. ]}

I'm all yours. 'n maybe I'm bein' a little selfish here, but I think I wanna at least see you get off.

_{[ A nice little Nasti Birthday gift? Yea. ]}

From:

counterattack

[ Law's laugh is tremulous, almost as if he can't believe he's capable of eliciting such a strong reaction from someone like Gladio. It's the kind of response that makes him feel it sympathetically, his own body burning with it, shifting eagerly under his touch. As Gladio bends his leg, Law moves with him, shifting position so that he's positioned between them, and that continued reckless disregard for propriety lets him press his hips in closer, too.

Oh, man. Oh man oh man oh man— ]

Nnnh—you can't tell? I mean... it's not obvious?

[ If he's not screaming obvious clueless virgin then that is a miracle, one he's exceedingly grateful for. He'd always thought he'd... struggle with this, honestly. Not being physical with another person, but getting caught up in his own head. He hates not getting things right the first time, and this isn't exactly something you can train at, y'know? (He'll find ways to get his practice eventually, don't worry.) All this time he's spent worrying about embarrassing himself, he regrets that now. Even stumbling and shit-faced, it's not difficult. All he's doing is what it feels good to do. Maybe that'll change when they actually start... y'know... but it's not as if he's never touched himself, so how hard could it be with another guy? It's the same junk. ]

I don't think it's too fast. I mean, I've been waiting half of forever already, so...

[ We'll see what he thinks tomorrow, but living life that way is no way to be. You're never guaranteed a tomorrow, so why not just go for it? Grinning a little, he chases down that spot he'd scratched that'd really sent Gladio into a (metaphorical) tailspin, kneading with his fingertips, then scratching with his blunt nails. His grin goes funny at the edges, flushing with satisfaction. ]

How is that selfish? Selfish would be if I didn't return the favor. Which I... I definitely wanna do.

[ oh man oh man oh man ]

From:

indeferent

I can't rea—ah...

_{[ Sorry, what was that? His train of thought has been derailed twice as hard, but he has enough clarity to let the hand that had been in Law's hair slide down the back of his neck, along the length of his spine, and down to the waistband of his pants. He lacks the fine motor skills to actually do what he wants to do for the moment, but for now it's enough. His fingertips drag across his lower back, following the faint scarring that he can't see but knows is there from the wyverns. He still thanks the Astrals every day that he had only seen him recovering after that incident because he's frankly not entirely sure how he'd have taken it otherwise. Seeing Ignis the way he'd been after Leviathan had pretty much destroyed him, so seeing Law... It might've been a lot worse.

That doesn't mean he can't appreciate the shit out of his scars though. Scarring only proves that he survived. They're proof that he's strong, that he's got a warrior's heart and soul thriving within him and that it'd take more than a couple unruly animals to take him out for good. And... if he's honest? Where they might look terrible on someone else, they look good on Law. Damn good. So, he contents himself with tracing them while his brain goes on the fritz.

Especially when that particular nugget reaches his ears. His head turns further into his hand and he gasps, though whether it's from a moment of too much too much or the implications... He can't tell. Does it matter? Nah. Not really. ]}

Nngh... You're killin' me, kid.

_{[ He can't even call him a cocktease quite yet which is probably the worst crime right now. What can he call him? An ear-tease? That doesn't even make sense, so all Gladio can do is keep making that strange, garbled rumble in his chest and groan every time Law's fingers find a real good spot all while trying to sort his thoughts out. Which is, uh. Pretty hard to do between that and the alcohol, but he's doing his best which is all anyone can ask. ]}

Gotta... talk to me... Don't wanna throw you into the deep end right out the gates...

_{[ His fingers falter over the scars and dip past the edge of his pants for a second, catching on the clasp that keeps them closed over his tail. That's— huh, somehow he didn't notice that before. It takes a bit of blind fumbling but that little button snaps open under his thumb and before Gladio knows it, he's letting his middle finger dip down to brush the spot where human skin gives way into fur. Soft, he thinks. Very soft. ]}

From:

counterattack

[ It's definitely going to his head, seeing how strongly Gladio reacts to his touch. Not to mention how he looks and sounds when he does—remember the Burger Incident? This is that times a hundred. Of course, back then, he hadn't even been able to keep it together for a second in the face of those probably completely unintentionally sexy eatin' noises. This time? When it is intentional (or at least contextually appropriate)? Yeah, it's flustering him a little, but mostly, it's making him feel bolder. He grins like he's proud of himself, nudging their mouths together, fingers briefly leaving the space behind Gladio's ear to experiment with running them along the base of his horn, right where it meets his skin. Somebody else might find it kind of weird or off-putting, seeing as it's not what one would call a conventionally attractive sensation or feature, but Law doesn't mind it. He's seen worse transformations, and Gladio happens to wear the horns well. ]

You don't gotta worry about that. I ca—aaaah—

[ Holy god.

It's Law's turn to come apart with an absolutely obscene noise, his back instantly snapping into a dramatic arch. If the tail itself is sensitive, the spot where it connects to his body, right at the tailbone, is doubly so. Easy for it to be when he's never had hands on him that low before, but maybe there's just something about these monster bits that does weird shit to the people that have them? He'll never know. All he knows is he winds up with his face pressed to Gladio's shoulder, palm pressed to the bed, and all the blood in his body feels like it rushes straight to his groin so that his hips shift needily without him even meaning for them to.

Suddenly, he's feeling a lot more willing to be honest. Weird. ]

I've never done this before, any of it. But I don't need you to be careful with me. I don't wan-nn-t you to be careful with me.

From:

indeferent

_{[ This kid really is going to be the death of him — between the touch to his horn, the grin he catches out of the corner of his eye and that oh-so-tender kiss, Gladio feels his heart skip a beat within his chest. It's damn near enough to pull an honest-to-Six keen out of him when he pulls back to speak, but he manages to catch it just in time for Law to make that delightful little noise. With the angle they're both at it means Gladio's own laughter winds up partially muffled in Law's hair, his nose burying itself into the shorter swath he finds at the side. He'd tuck the kid's head under his chin if he could but for now this was good. Better than good, actually, because this way he can mumble and tease a barely-there bite to the tip of an ear.

Scratch that, more than a nibble. He's not rough by any means but he does duck down a bit more to lightly tug on an earlobe, then follows that "bite" with a small kiss. That's where he stays for the time being while he grows a little more bold and gently pinches the base of Law's tail between his fingers, then down a few inches to card through the longer, thicker fur and back up to the small of his back. Each time he goes back down he lets his touch linger a little bit longer each time, and each time he goes up he signals it with a careful scratch to the spot where it all connects. Gladio knows he liked it the one time he'd been touched there (despite the literal pain in the ass from the arrow he'd been shot with), so it only makes sense to him to try something similar here. ]}

You might not want it but 'm still sober enough to know you'll thank me for it later, Firecracker.

_{[ Another kiss to the ear, and Gladio's mouth turns up into a smile against it. He noses his way back into his hair with a content sigh, and the instant Law starts to shift against his own? He's rocking back up to meet him. Slow and steady despite it all — to start with, anyway. ]}

For now, just do what feels right. Don't be 'fraid to ask for something.

_{[ Hell, he'll even put his gil where his mouth is and prove his own point. Using what leverage he has on Law's hip, he keeps him steady and with the hand at his lower back coaxes him into a slow, almost-uneven rhythm. Find what feels right. ]}

Shut your eyes 'n focus on this for a minute. I got you.

From:

counterattack

You're drunker'n I am. And I'm not afraid.

[ No, just rapidly becoming a mess. He'd kept it together pretty well up until now, but now it seems like everything is getting a solid reaction out of him. He answers teeth with teeth, still unwilling to bite but not above mindless mouthing, sighing shakily as he rasps his front teeth against Gladio's shoulder, then into the crook of his neck. It had, at first, been a way to hide his face, but now it seems like a perfectly good place to be, something to channel his needy energy into up until they rock their hips together.

When they do, suavely, he chokes on his spit. It feels like he's all over the place, squirming, arching, unsure what sensation to chase down or what action to focus on, and how is he supposed to decide when all of it feels good? He is, in fact, a little wide-eyed as he starts to come apart at the seams, but that helpful instruction helps capture his attention.

Eyes closed, he starts with his breaths, as always. Find your center. Harness your energy. It's an absolutely wild feeling to try to put into play in bed, and while it's not quite the same as, y'know, getting ready to smash through a boulder, the technique is kind of similar. It's just that instead of finding his footing in a fight, he's keying into the rhythm of Gladio's body. And then his own, and then finding that sweet spot in-between both that lights all his nerves on fire. His breaths lengthen to match the steady sway of his hips, and as he lifts his face from Gladio's shoulder to met his eye, a few of the longer strands of his hair falling into his eyes, damp with sweat, he sure looks like he's in the zone. ]

I don't need experience to know what I'm doing. I wanna touch you.

From:

indeferent

Like I said, I'm sober 'nuff.

_{[ It's a weak counter but a counter all the same and it's one that he mumbles into Law's hair. Finding that sweet spot seems to take both of them a hot minute between how keyed up they are but when Law finds it and sets that pace, Gladio's right there with him. He doesn't even protest when Law catches a little too rough with his teeth or grips his horns a smidge too tight (it's the pressure more than anything). It's a good twinge that he doesn't get to ask for very often these days and it's not because of being shy, it's more... sometimes doubt still lingers in his mind.

But he chooses to ignore the cloud and tilts his head back instead to let Law go to town. What he doesn't fully expect is for him to find a particular little spot just below his ear that pulls a snort and prompts Gladio to half-heartedly pull his neck away with a quiet "tickles". Not that he'd actually stop him of course. It's only when he feels his face pull back and feels him staring that Gladio drops his chin to look up, hands stilling for a moment as he lets that all sink in.

He... Alright. Yeah. Yeah. That's—

Gladio doesn't even bother stopping himself this time. He releases his hip and with all the certainty in the world, he lifts his hand to brush Law's hair away from his face. He almost moves to tuck it behind his ear too, but he clearly decides against it at the last minute and simply winds up pushing it back and tangling his fingers in it instead. ]}

You want me in your lap like this? Or d'ya want me right where I am?

From:

counterattack

[ Shifting gears, he doesn't quite understand the meaning of slow your roll, but he tries anyway. It's just difficult to sit still when everything is so electric. His hair is specifically meant to be pushed back, and if he thought he was on to something with carding his own hand through his hair all the time, he can only imagine what it must look like to Gladio. He knows what it feels like, anyway: amazing. ]

Hnnnmmn...

[ Hang on, he has to think about it for a second. He's trying to picture his options, which is both really easy and really difficult to do at the same time. Easy, because he can picture Gladio all kinds of ways right about now, but difficult because every mental image is kind of just horny spaghetti in his drunk brain. Oh no. It's all hot.

Law bites his lip, trying to hide his smile. ]

I think... yeah. On top. You should— I'm just gonna—

[ roll over? Got you covered fam. Law shifts his legs and tips to the side, and—there he go. It instantly makes him dizzy, toppling over and rolling onto his back, but he tries not to let that show (it's pretty obvious, he's practically got the swirly emoji eyes, but we can just pretend that's from how worked up he is, it's fine). ]

From:

indeferent

_{[ Following Law should be an easy enough task. All he needs to do is sit up, swing a leg over, and plant himself down. He doesn't do any of that though. Gladio keeps a loose hold on Law's tail even when he topples over and off of his lap, letting the fur slide through his fingers until he winds up pulling it over his leg. He supposes its better than letting it get pinned underneath his body at an awkward angle and in a moment of selfishness, it means Gladio gets to keep touching it for a little while longer.

The most he manages to do (at first) is to roll over onto his side to face him. From this angle it'd be just as easy to pull Law right back into him, but he just winds up staring at him instead. His hand drops down to cup his face and after a few moments Gladio swipes his thumb across a cheekbone, his expression softening for a time.

...He can't recall ever seeing eyes like his before. ]}

Yeah. M'the luckiest.

_{[ Amicitias. They say weird shit and absolutely refuse to elaborate.

He strokes his face a few more times before finally, Gladio pulls himself up with a small grunt and shrugs an arm out of its sleeve to let the rest of his jacket dangle. Sure, he could peel it off the rest of the way himself but in a minute. The big thing is it's enough to show the expanse of dark feathers that dips past his waistband, and... look, okay, maybe he flexes his shoulders a little to draw attention just before he twists and slides his leg up and across both of Law's. He's less graceful and more unsteady than he'd like — he doesn't tip over completely, but he lists enough to the side to have to grab hold of the covers to keep himself upright with a quiet laugh and an even quieter— ]}

Oops. M'good, m'good...

_{[ Deep breath, aaaaaaand... Yeah, he's good. Straightening himself back out, Gladio sits back to rest against Law's thighs and reaches for both of his hands. C'mere. Give. ]}

Hey.

From:

counterattack

[ It isn't impatience, exactly, that he's feeling—just eagerness. Even at this odd angle, pulled to the side to keep it from getting squashed underneath him (something he's all too used to doing, and consequently to suffering from, sitting on it, laying on it, getting it caught in doors and drawers and who knows what... yeah), that tail starts wagging like a playful pup. Hi? Hello? Are you coming? Is it playtime? Are we gonna go? Now? Yes? Hi? I love you? Am I a good boy? Hewwo? He's starting to lose that pup face, though, especially right now, flushed and sweaty and drunk, but also just sharper-featured with a big, cocksure grin. He wriggles to free the chains that house his medallion and his parents' rings out from under him but doesn't get all the way to taking them off before Gladio looks at him like that, and... ]

Geez.

[ There's just something about that, the slowdown just to touch him, the tenderness of it, that he hadn't been prepared for. Rather than lose his gourd about it, though, he just lets his biggest, brightest smile slip off the chain and spread across his face. Flushed, sure, but that sentiment hit home. If nothing else really sticks today, it's pretty clear that one will. ]

Nahhh, that'd be me. You can be second luckiest, though, if y'want.

[ He'll allow the idea of being considered some sort of prize today, whether he usually thinks so or not. With that over-excited energy tempered out just a bit, he's still nonetheless unmissably giddy as Gladio straddles him, laughing as he all but tumbles into place. Two seconds to lift his head up and extract both necklaces from around his neck, which he carefully and securely places on top of the pillow beside him (and maybe let his fingers rest briefly over the rings as if to say to them, Don't worry, I won't be far), then he gives his hands over, trying to play it cool. ]

Heyyy. Soooo, uh... you come here often?

[ ok, not cool. stupid. charming stupid, wagging tail stupid, but still stupid. whatever, not important. becky lemme touch. ]

From:

indeferent

For a pretty thing like you? I'll come wherever you want.

_{[ Maybe it should scare Gladio — the way they both fall into step so easily and without any true fuss is almost foreign to him. He's had flings and casual hookups of course, but those had almost always been one time things. Never with someone so close, you know? And it feels right. They're having fun — he thinks and hopes — and that's the important thing. Even with that moment of Holy shit lingering on the edge of his mind Gladio doesn't miss a beat the instant Law hands his hands over. He slips his own into Law's first, fingers skating over his palm and to the insides of his wrist. Then he closes his grip over them and guides him.

Head bowed, the Shield brings them up to the tops of his horns first, and down. Down, following the curve to his brow, and further. He makes sure to press a kiss to one palm in passing, and down to his throat. His collar. Over his chest and he leaves one at the top of the scar by the eagle's beak. The other he keeps guiding: his ribcage, flank, and as he coaxes back behind him he releases his hold. Go nuts. And with his own hands empty? That means Gladio is free to reach down with one to keep running his fingers through that lovely tail and still able to rest the other over Law's heart. ]}

Tell me if I start gettin' too heavy, by the way. Last thing I wanna do is make everything go numb 'cause I'm cuttin' somethin' off.

_{[ Because of his big Behemoth-sized ass, get it? There's another puff of laughter as he starts walking his fingers down his sternum, then over to the mess of scars once more. He's got a better angle now, so he's going to take his sweet time in familiarizing himself with them and the swaths of ink across his arms. ]}

From:

counterattack

[ phrasing.

also i woke up in a cold sweat last night realizing he wouldn't be able to understand Gladio without the medallion so pretend he left that on lmao.

Anyway. Law's eyes follow the path their hands take with a slightly widened gaze, taking it all in. Matching the visual to the physical sensation just makes everything that much more real, that much more intense. He'd probably be trembling if he were sober, a little bit overwhelmed but only in the best possible way. As it is now, though, he's just into it. The hand left behind runs its fingers along the scar on Gladio's chest, tracing it admiringly. Scars always tell a story—about an event, about a person. About their resilience and determination to stay alive. In a way, it's difficult for him to trust someone who doesn't have scars, because how can you know they've really lived, that they know what it's like to fight for their life? As much as he teases Gladio, calling him rich boy and shaking his head at how ridiculously privileged he sounds a lot of the time, it was the scars that really proved who he is.

That other hand, though... oh, man. Just as soon as it's free to run wild, he doesn't waste any time. He'd already sneaked a feel of that ass on the way over here, but this time he doesn't have to casually pretend he's not doing anything untoward, so he's going to appreciate it this time, pressing his palm down and sliding his fingers into his back pocket. And what have we here? Wallet? Casually pickpocketed. He tosses it over by the pillow, then uses that brief distraction to trail up the inside of his thigh. ]

I can handle heavy. What I can't handle is how good it feels to... to finally...

[ Finally a lot of things, really. Finally touch him, finally touch someone in general, really, but there's something a little more to it than that, something that it takes his mind a moment to parse out. Undoubtedly because coming up with correct, coherent words is hard when you're sloshed, but also because he's very, very distracted right this moment. Just as soon as he curls his fingers over the bulge at the front of Gladio's pants, he sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek so hard it makes him hiss and jump. ]

Shit, that hurt. —Uh, I-I was saying... to finally know what it feels like to be close to you. Like, really close.

[ Don't get much closer than this, really. His tongue prods the inside of his cheek to see if it's bleeding (not quite, but it stings), but then he just goes ahead and bites that same spot again as he catches his fingers against the button of his pants and pulls it free. ]

Do you have, like, a favorite way you like this to go? I mean, I know how I like it, when I'm by myself, but...

From:

indeferent

_{[ Fingers slip into his pocket and Gladio arches his back in order to press his ass further into his palm. He may be the kind of person to get stuck in a downward dog and in general not the most flexible compared to some people (especially one whose name begins with an I), but he doesn't slouch on his morning stretches by any means. It just isn't something he tends to show often. Mostly because he doesn't get the opportunity to wind up sitting across someone's lap very often, least of all like this. People normally take one look at the Shield and expect (sometimes demand) him to take charge so that's what he's grown accustom to doing. Not here, though.

With Law, he can try things from a different angle. He knows he's hot shit and takes pride in it on most days. He knows what works and what doesn't, and while this is somewhat uncharted territory he feels comfortable enough to go with what his gut tells him. And his gut tells him to, well... When you got it, flaunt it.

Until he feels his wallet slip out of his pocket, earning Law a small tug to the fur on his tail and a breathy "Brat".

The distraction works though, even up to the point where Law bites himself. Gladio's brows furrow and finds himself frowning with concern but it's fortunately shortlived when he realizes that one) it wasn't because of himself, and two) Law was fine. But as his words slowly sink in, Gladio feels something else stir: for someone with little to no experience in this sort of thing he sure knows what the hell to say, do, and ask... Six, he wishes he were that smooth as a teenager. By the time everything else clicks he's already moving. That one hand abandons Law's torso to support himself against the mattress as he bends forward, thighs parting further and his rocking motion slowing to a snail's pace but never quite stopping. ]}

...but you've never done this with another person.

_{[ It's a whisper and a reminder to himself regarding what Law had said earlier, not a dig at his experience.

That's why as much as it pains his touch-happy self to do it, Gladio withdraws from Law's tail in order to join the one already between their bodies. His fingers touch the back of his hand, then up to the rest and a smidge higher so he can fumble with the buckle to his belt. Once that's unlatched and open he dips back down to encircle his wrist and squeezes just about... There. A loose hold, but not too loose. ]}

If I've got time to myself or someone asks to watch. Beyond that, uh... Lets see what you've been cooking up in your imagination?

_{[ The words go unspoken but they're in the way he ducks down to catch Law's mouth in a kiss: I trust you. ]}

From:

counterattack

[ He'd be floored if he knew how right he's getting it. Even in this state, where apprehension is largely overcome by wild, drunken bravado, it'd still absolutely blow his mind, that when he says I don't need experience to know what I'm doing, that wasn't just him trying to wheedle his way into making this happen, he's actually able to put his money where his mouth is. It all just feels... kind of surreal, honestly, to him. Not like a dream, but like he can't quite recognize himself in his own words and actions. That's more the self-doubt than anything else talking than anything else, though. He'd had it so firmly in his mind that he'd just never get it, that he'd be awkward and clumsy as hell and that that would be expected of him and he'd just have to live with it. Every piece of advice he's ever gotten was basically well-intentioned to have him prepare to accept the inevitable. The inevitable miserable failure.

I mean, for Dahna's sake, his dad broke his hand just trying to show off. The bar isn't set very high here.

But it's nothing that dramatic. Gladio squeezes his wrist and Law almost doesn't understand until he does, and then... yeah. Okay. That—yeah, he can imitate that, right? No problem. The suggestion of it, coupled with the close proximity and the clinking of that buckle coming undone, sends a shiver through him. It's a good thing Gladio kisses him, otherwise he'd go on chewing his cheek and lower lip to shreds. ]

Watch? People really ask that? ...And you let them?

[ It's not incredulous in a bad, that's so weird, who would want that kind of way; it's incredulous in the I didn't know that was an option way. Sheesh, if he had known he could ask something like that, he—well... maybe he wouldn't have asked, actually. It would've just made the ache to want to do it himself that much more unbearable. He's a hands-on kinda guy, remember.

Speaking of which. Law's hand travels down Gladio's back, fingers slightly curled to give the illusion of scratching even though he really doesn't have much in the way of nails to do that with. The act of pulling pants open and tugging his underwear out of the way (he doesn't quite have a grasp on the nuance of subtlety, unwrapping those layers one by one—makes sense, seeing as wrapped gifts are still a strange concept to him and Calaglians are utilitarian by nature anyways) feels like it should probably end him, but somehow, as he curls his fingers around Gladio's cock, he manages to survive somehow. Breathless, wide-eyed and tense in a sympathetic sensation kind of way, he swallows audibly and tries not to squirm.

He can manage that, but he can't manage not to whisper Wow under his breath. Doubtful Gladio doesn't get that reaction all the time, but it's not for no reason, god damn. And, yeah, Law is chewing his lower lip to ribbons as he feels it out, his touch soft, tracing, almost uncertain, but when he gets that grip the way Gladio had it around his wrist, he's got it. ]

Like... that.

[ It's not a question. ]

From:

indeferent

_{[ Six, he's cute. Gladio offers another kiss, then turns his head to grin against his cheek to plant one there, too. It's not often that he laments just how damned tall he is but this is one of those times; he knows if he stays hunched over like this it'll be hell on his neck, but right now he just can't bring himself to pull away. He's just... He's got a lot of feelings right now, okay? And a good chunk of them revolve around Law that he doesn't know how to properly express, so he makes up for it by being physical.

Maybe he can bargain a good back rub out of him later anyway. ]}

Let 'em watch, let 'em tell me what to do, the works. 'Course the latter depends on the person but...

_{[ For Law? Oh, he's one-hundred percent someone he'd include in on that. He even opens his mouth to say so, but then Law closes his hand around his cock and rakes his nails down his spine and the half-slurred "Six, yes" is the only useful thing he's getting out of Gladio for a hot minute. His head drops into the pillow next to Law's, angled in such a way that he's not at risk of clocking the poor guy with those damned horns and for a time he simply shuts his eyes and focuses.

He wasn't joking when he'd said he thought Law's hands were soft. Even with the calluses he's felt, Gladio thinks they're just as soft — if not softer — than the pads that appear on his own palms as a beast. Not that he's ever, uh. You know. Yet. His hips shift a bit to meet his touch and every so often a slow breath escapes, controlled and very much concentrating on everything. This is Law's time. He's got the reins in this moment and from where Gladio sits, full control.

Finally, Gladio finds his words. ]}

I think... I'd let you boss me around too. If that's something you'd... _{Six, that— Do that again.}

From:

counterattack

[ Law shivers a second time, his arm squeezing around Gladio's back as he leans in. Hard not to be affected when these are the kinds of reactions he gets. Hard not to be encouraged, too. You see? All he ever needed to turn into a monster (not that kind of monster, the other kind) was an ego boost. Gladio gave him the starting point, but Law puts his own spin on the rest, drawing on his own marginal experience. Start slow and easy, build up to something more frenetic later. His own breath comes up short in his chest as he pumps Gladio's cock in his hand, and it's got nothing to do with any extra weight settled overtop of him. (I mean, really, after having his entire three-floor inn come crashing down on him, a lot of things feel less heavy than they did before.) God, at this rate, he's not gonna need much attention of his own to get off. This is killing him. ]

Not sure if I'm the bossy type, exactly, bu—mm? Nn?

[ Again. Which part? His grip slides up, pausing, squeezing ever so faintly around the head of his cock. That? Oh—no wait, it was the other thing, wasn't it? He slides his other hand up Gladio's back again, then slowly drags it down, fingers curled, trying to press down about the same as before. And he's not thinking, yeah, it'd be totally sexy if you did that, or this, or anything when he tilts his head close to Gladio's ear, their jaws brushing together, or when he murmurs with a certain amount of low warmth to his voice: ]

Does that feel good?

[ He's just kinda doin' whatever feels right. Saying whatever comes to mind. He has no frame of reference for almost anything, since he wouldn't know the first thing about what it'd feel like on his own body, but he can't help but try things he thinks he'd like, himself, slow and easy as he works him over, dragging his blunt nails back up his spine. It just Makes Sense in his mind. ]

From:

indeferent

_{[ His nails dig in a little harder this time and Gladio growls breathlessly into Law's ear, and with it comes another arch of his back. Has his lower back always been this sensitive? In the heat of the moment he can't really remember, only that this feels damn good. The reality of it is that no, it's never been that sensitive to touch before — he'd have been a mess when he'd gotten the rest of his tattoo finished if he had been. That was a new change brought on by the incense no doubt because of the tail he often winds up with and all those nerves that connect to it. He's just never had anyone besides Ignis touch it that One Time to find out and he'd been dealing with the pain of having that arrow stuck in it, never anything gentle or teasing like this.

Gladio's only saving grace is that both of Law's hands are too busy to make a go for his ears and he's oddly thankful for that if only because he's not sure how long he'd be able to keep what little remains of his composure. Just when he thinks he'll be fine too, Law squeezes and pulls an almost-needy noise out of Gladio. That's—

That's it.

With another shuddering breath Gladio sits up a bit straighter so he can see what he's doing, and though it's pretty much futile with his body settled over Law the way it is, he weakly pulls at the waistband pinned under one of his thighs. Off. ]}

Fuck yeah, it does. Lemme...

_{[ Another rock of his hips, more incessant and wanting— ]}

You too. C'mon.

From:

counterattack

[ Breathless, Law tries to remember to exhale in-between everything else, dragging his fingertips down every part of Gladio's back he can reach at this ankle, following the movement of his hips and trying to match what his body seems to ask for. Faster? A little faster. But not too fast, because then it's more his own eagerness he's answering than Gladio's, and he should probably keep the two straight, otherwise that'd be weird, right? His thumb slides up to smear some of the slick moisture beading at the tip down, just to make it that much smoother, less abrasive against the calluses on his hands. He takes good care of those hands, seeing as they're also his weapons and he'd be useless without them, but he also knows from personal experience how, uh, rough it can get.

Keeping the two separate suddenly becomes a lot easier when Gladio pulls at his pants, though. He almost chokes on his spit, fortunately not right in Gladio's ear, fumbling his pace as he scrambles to react. ]

—Yeah. Okay. Lemme just—hang on—

[ Well, you can't be accidentally good at this stuff all the time, y'know? He wriggles around, jabbing Gladio with his knee when he bends it (not in the nuts, fortunately), forgetting to be reluctant about relinquishing his grip on his cock in favor of scrabbling to unbuckle his belt and yank the fastenings open so frantically it's a wonder he doesn't rip the zipper-tug off completely. He gets his bearings grasping at Gladio's hip, chewing into that already sore spot on the inside of his cheek but forgetting to flinch when it smarts. ]

You... you do it how you usually do. You're the expert.

[ It's gotta be better than anything he's ever done, that's for sure. ]

From:

indeferent

_{[ Ow, right in his thigh! It's enough of a "jolt" to make Gladio jump a bit, but in doing so it also means he accidentally bonks his forehead into Law's when he moves to look down which in turn pulls a hiss from the other man. Double ow. Okay, okay, it's normal, you know? It just wouldn't be a First Time without getting a limb jabbed where it doesn't belong or skulls knocking around once or twice, and all things considered this was going much smoother than Gladio's first foray. Sometimes he thinks back to that day and ach nein, cringe. Luckily he tries to soothe it over with a laugh and a near-sheepish "Oops" as he slides down to straddle one of Law's thighs while he fights with his pants, and if it means he gets to admire the view a little more? Then that's a perk. ]}

Expert? I dunno if I'm the right person to call that, Firecracker.

_{[ But damn if it doesn't make his cheeks flush. Or maybe that's just the fact that five seconds ago he was about to blurt something incredibly stupid just because he had a hand on his dick and a muddled brain. He reaches forward to lightly "swat" at Law's until he can hook his fingers into the waistband and tugs once, eyes darting up— ]}

Lift your ass. I got somethin' in the armiger I think you'll like, 'cept it might get messy. Don't wanna ruin your pants.

_{[ He even makes a point to ghost one hand down the length of Law's thigh until he reaches his knee, taking his sweet time to press and knead his fingers into the muscle. What can he say? He's not just a sucker for pretty eyes and gentle hands. Give him a pair of legs that could choke the life out of him in the bedroom and Gladio can die a happy man. ]}

Figure I can show you this, then you can take over again if you want? Or...

From:

counterattack

[ Wincing when he's clocked, Law hisses under his breath, but quite honestly, he's so keyed up that he kind of forgets to feel pain. It's fine, he's got a thick skull, it'd take more than that to give him brain damage. He feels a little like a dingus, laying there on his back boggling up at Gladio, trying not to make it too obvious that he's staring and not listening, or that when his brain does catch up to his ears, it's clear he's trying to process all of it at the same time, to limited success. ]

In the wha—messy? Wait, I— aah, watch the tail, geez...

[ Can't just whip his pants off all willy-nilly anymore, man, he has to release the tail first. Thank everything that's holy for his flexibility or this would be even more of an embarrassing, drunken fumble—instead he lifts his hips up off the bed with the rest of him still flat on the mattress so that Gladio pinning his legs ain't even an issue, then bends one arm back to Free The Tail with an unceremonious tug that probably should hurt, but again: too drunk and horny for pain.

But, okay, it does twinge a little when he drops back down and lands right on top of the base of his tail. Just a little. ]

Ngk—you sure you don't want... I can still... I mean, I don't wanna leave you hanging, or anything.

[ Don't stare don't stare don't stare—nah screw that actually, he didn't wait almost a year for this and then not be allowed to stare to his heart's content. Chewing that lip of his to ribbons again, he focuses his eyes on Gladio so he doesn't have to pay too much attention to himself. As if that's some kind of issue or something. Not like his dick's anything to be embarrassed about, but it's just... too much for him to deal with, being so objectively hard and laid out like he is. The scarring in his right leg that'd left him laid up for months is pretty nasty, too, although a lot of it's hidden now by a spiraling band of barbed wire-looking ink starting from the top of his thigh to his knee. Ignis had been nice enough to heal it, but it's never gonna look quite right again. ]

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