A LAWFUL WASTELAND

[counterattack]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[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.

[indeferent]

Like I said, I'm sober 'nuff.

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

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

[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). ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

Yeah. M'the luckiest.

<sub>[ 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— ]</sub>

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.

[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. ]

[indeferent]

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

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

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. ]}

[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...

[indeferent]

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

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

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

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. ]}

[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. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

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

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

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

[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. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ 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. ]</sub>

Fuck yeah, it does. Lemme...

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

You too. C'mon.

[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. ]

[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...

[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. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Yep, score one more point in the "pro" category regarding Gladio's lack of a tail. It's one thing when Law's working with something significantly smaller, but to imagine maneuvering the thick slab of muscle that makes up the tail of a behemoth and stripping down in a hurry? No thanks. That's a lethal weapon and an accident waiting to happen. At least he's patient while he wrenches it the rest of the way out, and the second Law's ass hits the mattress again Gladio's ready. His fingers hook back into his pants — just those to start with — and begins to shimmy them down inch by inch as if it were his birthday and Law was his to unwrap instead of the other way around.

Once he's got them down to Law's knees, Gladio slides his hands back up his legs at an even slower pace. His attention is focused on the expanse of skin he'd just uncovered, taking in everything he can like he's worried that if he blinks, he'll wake up from a dream. A good dream, but one worthy of being called a blue-baller. ]</sub>

I do. Believe me, I do, m'just not about to leave you pent up. I mean... Six, look at you.

_{[ One hand settles over the gnarled mess of scarring, thumb tracing every divot and jagged edge he can find. The other keeps moving up until Gladio's palm skates over Law's dick still confined, and he ignores the surge of heat pooling in his belly in favor of focusing on him. And just because he can't resist, he curls his fingers just a bit to stroke him once or twice through it. ]}

Look at you.

_{[ Gladio you already said that you big dumb idiot. ]}

Can I do somethin'? If you don't like it, uh... You know the drill?

_{[ He shifts partially down his leg almost a little too anxious, his own bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There's everything, and then there's too much. The last thing Gladio wants to do is overwhelm him, you know? It's already A Lot. ]}

[counterattack]

[ He can hear his heart thumping in his ears, the actual racing thud of it hammering rhythmically so loud that he can't imagine Gladio, with those batty ears of his, won't be able to hear it somehow, too. The gasp he lets out is so sharp that he chokes on his own breath, and this time when he bites down his lip, he draws blood. Jesus, Law, get it together. If he's that easy, this is going to last five seconds. Which, y'know, doesn't mean he won't have the stamina to go again (it's been known to happen, when he's alone and particularly riled up, but sadly he rarely has that long all to himself, so he's never gotten to test his own limits), but still—that's mortifying. Swallowing tightly, he takes a shaky, steadying breath and forces his hips back down from the arch they'd started to lift up into, fists clenched in the blankets.

He sure looks like he's nervous, but that ain't nerves. That's antici

wait for it

pation. ]

Yeah. Yes. You can do whatever you wanna do. I mean it—anything.

[ What he means is, kind of, not quite what he says. That too, but he just doesn't have the eloquence to express that he's comfortable with this, comfortable with Gladio, and that he's willing to try anything, or any of those slightly more nuanced thoughts. Anything remaining of his brain has completely vacated, but he does manage to string together enough coherent words to manage the following: ]

I'll... I'll say something if it's... yeah.

[ Kind of coherent. He can't imagine for the world what Gladio could possibly do that would make him want to tell him to stop, but he's relatively secure in the notion that he sure as hell won't do anything he doesn't wanna do. He'd seen enough of that shit in Cysloden, found himself on both sides of the fence, and he knew even as a kid that wasn't gonna be an option. Being desperate enough to let anyone do anything, either just because you wanted to feel something before you were dead or because it was the only currency you had left, or being the one to have things offered you'd never take in a million years because it'd be too sick, too wrong. His body's sacred, dammit.

Even if it is all chewed up now.

But either way, that's not something he's afraid of with Gladio. Shooting off because he's way too keyed up, though? That could happen and he might not even be ready for it. But hey. Stamina. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Even if Gladio the Human can't hear it, Gladio the Behemoth can sense something "amiss". What that is it doesn't know, only that it's not a bad thing and it helps spur the man on. Instinct leads him by the nose for the time being and it begins with a warm, lazy smile that gets sent directly to Law. He wants to take him apart the only way a lover can. He wants to keep him and have those lazy mornings he'd always wanted in the past. He wants... Gladio wants him. That's all, really. He just...

Gladio slides down the length of the bed until he can bring his lips to the inside of Law's knee, then another brush to the opposite all while keeping his eyes fixed on him. ]</sub>

While I figure out exactly what I'm gonna do, then... How 'bout you humor me a little?

_{[ A third to the first, and this time Gladio lingers. He nips at the soft skin, sucks at the "bite" until it turns into a pale red splotch, and then he leaves an open-mouthed kiss to a faded, tail end of a scar running over the top of his leg. He'd never actually seen these ones either now that he thinks about it... At least, he hadn't until now. And they're still perfect. They're proof that Law survived his ordeal with the wyverns and now instead of grimacing with sympathy when he'd first seen the bandages, Gladio finds himself looking at them with hiw own brand of admiration. Ooooooooor maybe that's just how he's looked at Law these last few months and never realized it. Better late than never, yeah? ]}

Tell me about... I dunno, your top three fantasies you've had. With me, I mean. Or try to.

_{[ Because he goes right back to that scar and leaves another mark along the rough, healed over tissue. Right over a spot where a wyvern's fang had imbedded itself deep. One canine grazes against it, and then he starts to leave more love-bites along the dark ink that trails up and up and up. Is he playing fair? Nah, not really, but it's still fun. They're still having a good time, and Gladio knows damn well that Law gives back as good as he gets so maybe he's getting himself into trouble for a Good Reason™. His fingers tease at the soft trail of hair just below the navel then after another bite-and-suck, dips them past the band of his underwear to free his cock and take it into his hand properly. Is for me? ]}

'n don't hold anything back by the way. I wanna hear you.

[counterattack]

[ Even the soft application of teeth on scar tissue isn't painful, but it is a little tender. He's worked hard to build the strength back up in that leg, but all the time, healing, and relentless training in the world still hasn't eliminated the fact that he has a distinct weak spot now. That leg aches if he uses it too much, sometimes, and the wreckage of scars are sensitive to the touch. Gladio putting his mouth to it adds a whole new layer of sensitivity to it that has his nerves standing on end, his breath hitching, picking up faster the higher that mouth goes. ]

Top three?! This is already cutting it close to the top in general, dude!

[ No issues with holding back, at least: he'd propped himself partly up on his elbow to watch, but the second Gladio's got his cock in his hand his head falls back against the bed with a strangled cry. Honestly? It's not even the physical sensation, although that's absolutely not something he could ever possibly overlook. It's just... seeing it. Watching him do it, that look in his eye and the low rumble of his voice—fuck. Talk about top fantasies.

One hand drops to the top of Gladio's head, fingers grazing his scalp, curling into his hair, reaching for the back of his head with every desire in the world to pull him in, higher, closer—but he doesn't, not quite yet. He takes another big, steeling breath, the kind that runs through his whole body, to try and keep his cool even while his thighs fall unconsciously, eagerly open for him. ]

I... I don't think I ever thought that specifically about it. L-Like, mmmh, what kinds of things we'd do, I just... I just wanted to touch you. So bad.

[ The words just fall out of his mouth without giving him the chance to think about them first, not that he probably could think even if he wanted to, at this point. He's too caught up in the feeling that saying them out loud gives him, coupled with how it feels to tilt his chin back down and watch again—it aches. He looks like he sounds like he feels: like he's been hurting for it. ]

I mean, I... of course I pictured, u-uh, basically exactly all of this kinda stuff, but I just wanted to—to feel something. From you. With you.

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Were he with anyone else (save a certain King of the Brats), Gladio might not do what he does. But since it's Law? He throws caution into the wind and lets the more animalistic side that he tries so hard to keep buried slip out. Not a lot, just... enough. The hand in his hair triggers it — a deep rumble that almost starts off as a growl, then it tapers out into something quieter and constant, albeit broken. A little known fun fact about Behemoths? Despite their fierce outward appearances they really did share a lot of similarities with cats, including purring even if it was rare to catch on film. One had to get incredibly close to them to distinguish it and by that point a person would've felt it first, no doubt prompting them to get the fuck out of dodge before they became dinner.

He didn't feel any shame about showing it to Law though. Perhaps Past-Gladio would've, but not now. Not anymore. No matter how awkward it feels in his chest to do it he keeps it going, and he keeps seeking his hand out little by little. Fingers dig into his hair and across his scalp, pulling a pleased sigh from his lips and prompting him to turn and press a gentler kiss to the inside of Law's thigh. The next one goes to the ink creeping higher until Gladio has to start pulling himself up the length of Law's body inch by inch and by the time he reaches the widest part of the tattoo, he's left a nice little trail of red marks in various shapes and sizes. ]</sub>

Gimme the ones you thought about the most, then. Besides...

<sub>[ Touching me, he thinks to himself. The flush that'd have naturally covered his ears spreads fully to his cheeks the more he repeats it in his mind all the way until the point Gladio bows his head to plant a Good Proper Bite-n-Mark on an exposed hipbone. This angle also gives him a better opportunity to readjust the hold he has on his cock, thumb stroking along the underside in slow, steady swipes. Up, aaaaaand down.

Better to fixate on that than his own silly embarrassment, huh? ]</sub>

I'd be a lousy partner if I wasn't curious 'bout what I could make reality for you.

<sub>[ Gladio pulls himself up higher, higher, almost as if he means to put his money where his mouth is only...



to kiss the scar across Law's abdomen instead. Right smack in the center. And also conveniently sticking his head and horns in perfect Guidance Range. ]</sub>

Gotta have been more than just a handjob, right? C'mon... Top two?

[counterattack]

Gladio—

[ Good luck getting the way he sounds when he says your name like that out of your dreams for the foreseeable future, champ. The list of things happening here that are all driving him absolutely wild is growing longer by the second, but it's his hip that really gets him. He arches up again, sinking his teeth into his lip and causing even more blood to pool in the center of that bite and start to run down his chin. He doesn't even notice. For all he knows, he could be fully drooling right now and that wouldn't manage to shock him. He's not even sure he'd care. Like, who wouldn't drool at a time like this?

The muscles in his stomach clench tight as he forces his body back down and breath through his lungs. By now, he's flushed from his face to his chest, beet red and still pale enough that it shows up really, really obviously. (Up until recently, the sun never really managed to reach Copalli enough to change the complexion that years of eternal nights in Cyslodia had left him with, but now that it does, he's slowly, slowly making his way back to that good ol' Calaglian Tan he used to be.) ]

You're really overestimating my creativity here... u-uh—

[ Even with a whole year of staring at Gladio and agonizing over his big, stupid crush on him, he'd always had to chastise himself for how juvenile most of his thoughts were. Baby stuff like holding his hand and kissing him, but whenever he took it further than that he'd get so caught up in a tangled web of I just wanna do everything and that's never gonna happen. What pops into his mind then is so mortifying even drunk-Law can't get around it. He can't look at him, can only drag his blunt nails through his hair and scratch behind his ear, apparently totally willing to accept a man letting out a monstrous purr, but not whatever filthy daydreams he'd been plagued with in the past. ]

Okay, that time at the cookoff when you tried that burger I made and had all that meat juice running down your face, it made me think of—something else. Something you're reeeeally, really close to right now. I couldn't get that image outta my head for months. You better not frickin' laugh, or I swear...

[ He'll... do... something. Die, probably. But he grips one of Gladio's horns with his other hand as if he has some punishment in mind anyway, even though he truly does not. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ It's not often that something is able to render Gladio speechless, but that? That entire thing right there? That does it, and boy howdy does it hit him like a rampaging dualhorn square in the chest. So maybe he could've survived the first hit: The pitch of Law's voice as he said his name. That's usually no biggie in most cases, but to hear it uttered like it could be the last thing he says in the world and he's okay with it... Gladio's breath hitches and he forces a lopsided grin to his face when really, he just wants to bury his face into Law's thigh. Or between them. He's getting to that but he still intends to leave his mark in both the literal and proverbial sense before that happens. For now, he settles for pressing his cheek against his belly, nose barely touching his navel.

But then Law moves his hand further into his hair and scratches his ear. He's still talking, and just as he's processing it he feels — and sees — his other hand settling onto a horn. The mental picture he paints goes straight to his cock and he shifts against the blankets, rutting into them once, twice like the antsy brute he is. There's no denying that Gladio mmmay or have thought about something similar on occasion in the past, and he's not sure what that says about him.

Nothing, the little voice in the back of his head says. If anything it just means you're a sap, Amicitia. Get it together.

It takes a long while for his thoughts to really re-organize themselves. For the first ten seconds he's all too content to lean his head into Law's hand and let the purring get louder, eyes falling half-shut. The next fifteen — when he starts to get on in there behind his ear and go to town — gets him breathing heavier, and if there's drool on his end then shut up don't @ him, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dog-dollars. But that pull to his horn seems to kick something into gear.

His free hand paws Law's opposite hip and thigh, pulling at the remainder of his clothing and raking blunt nails over soft skin (scars and all). He doesn't need to voice what he wants when his actions do the work for him; Please. Yes. Want that. Legs, up. Let me in. Take me. ]</sub>

Why th'hell would I laugh? You got any idea how fuckin' hot that is? 'Course you do. I can feel it—

_{[ A gentle squeeze, and a low groan slips out when Law's fingers find that Good Magical Spot behind his ear. Astrals, save him. ]}

Six, Law, I swear I'd never laugh at any of it. Be pretty stupid since I thought 'bout it once or twice when we'd get done throwing each other 'round in the arena...

[counterattack]

[ He has an idea, alright, and he can pretend to be normal about it all he wants, but his body doesn't lie—as soon as Gladio points it out to him, he twitches in his hand, a hard exhale escaping his parted lips. There are a lot of emotions in that breath: relief, rough humor, satisfaction, need... probably more than that, too. As that hand rakes down, he bends his legs and squirms against the bed to help get those damn clothes off, trying not to devolve into outright kicking and thrashing to free himself. Might wind up kicking something somewhere the wrong way, and if there's one thing they're probably both well aware of, even in this state, it's that you do not want to get kicked by Law. Even accidentally, close-up. It's gonna hurt. ]

Mmh... wish you'd gone for it. I always thought you were holding back. Not the sparring, but how— how close you could get. But then sometimes you'd— and I'd just—

[ God. Groaning under his breath, he fails to finish a sentence there, but does he really need to? They're both thinking about it now, those rough-and-tumble times when they'd come right up to that line dividing a particularly physical but otherwise professional spar and something else. One of them pinned, both of them panting, tangled up in the dirt and thinking what if, what if, what if. For Law, that tension was thick enough that it'd have taken a sword to cut it, not a knife. Sometimes he'd want to stay and ride that high out, finish strong, but sometimes—god, nope, he had to tap out. Hit the showers. Hit the showers hard (metaphorically speaking, but y'know). If the adrenaline was wild for him back then, it's almost overwhelming now. His hands switch positions, one on his horn, pulling him in, and the other raking behind his ear. ]

I always thought you could get more flexible than that, too. But I was afraid to push you past that point, 'cause I was afraid I... I wouldn't have been able to take my hands off you.

[ Clearly, that was a valid concern, because that's exactly the predicament he's finding himself in now. No amount of contact is enough, from the way he works his fingers along the ridge of his ear to how his bent knee brushes against his hip, arching eagerly into his curled fingers. Dahnans have a three hundred year history of not really knowing how to get what they want, or what to do with it if they do manage to get it. He'd always thought he was better than the average person, raised by headstrong rebels and going around with a group of resistance fighters and liberators. At the end of the day, though, he'd balked at the idea left, right, and center, and now? Maybe he's making up for it a little. It's in the doing, and in the admitting of, all those things he couldn't or wouldn't before. ]

I'm not gonna hold back anymore. I wanna see what you're really capable of.

[indeferent]

_{[ Gladio is, and has been, putty in Law's hands starting from the first time he'd actually touched him today. Like, actually touched him. Now he's practically melting. If he thought the scratch-n-rubs at the tavern were good, this was damn near orgasmic without any of the mess. He's so pliant that even the subtle pull to the other side has him chasing the contact point of Law's fingers, his hand slipping down to touch the back of that knee stretched out against his own flank. Only after it moves out of his reach and presses against his hip does he urge himself into motion. A tilt of his head, a kiss to the bellybutton, a lazy grin, and he tops it off with a barely-there nip, too. ]}

I'd say I can get stuck in downward dog for you, but I dunno if my legs could hold out long enough. M'probably capable of the one that's sorta like that one though, the uh... face down-ass up one. With the arched back.

<sub>[ Is he implying-slash-offering? Gladio? Yeah, yeah he is. He's no coward. It's even tempting to rearrange himself into said pose too, but then he'd miss out on two very important things: The first being the friction he gets against the bed while laying on his stomach, and the second and probably most important is he might lose that perfect angle for Law's fingers to attack his everything. But he can do it, and he'll prove it if he's gotta.

Getting his head back on straight takes half an eternity as far as his mind is concerned. The way Law looks at him whenever Gladio looks up sends nothing but warmth throughout his body, the bulk of it settling around his heart. It almost hurts when he thinks about how many people have actually looked at him like that and realizes the number comes up incredibly small. How could he not see it before? Why didn't he act on it when he thought he'd first noticed something? The worry that he was misreading signals, for one. Even if he could never have Law like this — Gladio's cheek pillowed above his pelvis, fingers wrapped and teasing a stiff dick he'd only felt once or twice before thanks to adrenaline and those gorgeous eyes that remind him of the sea looking at him as if he were everything — he could've at least kept him as a friend.

Now they both know there's definitely, one-hundred percent something there. Now they're both willing to take that chance, and Gladio even has a date coming out of it. The thought pulls a heady, content laugh from him and... yeah, he's happy. Really, really fucking happy. The pursuer becomes the pursued, and another laugh slips out to intermingle with the broken-ass purring. He's overcome with the urge to kiss him but doing that would also mean abandoning his place, so he settles for turning his head towards Law's hand and presses his lips against his palm.

Suddenly something hits him. A recent memory, and it's one that makes Gladio grin into his palm. ]</sub>

By the way... I think 'm ready for that dare.

[counterattack]

[ Somehow, Law manages a laugh. Somehow, because it feels like now, with his cock in Gladio's hand and that mouth harassing his scars, feels like an absolutely ridiculous time to laugh, but here he is. Hard to be nervous and uptight when you're laughing, either. His head lolls back, eyes closing, his back lifted in a perfect arch off the bed, and for a moment, he really looks like he's just basking in all of this. It's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, but it all could have gone much worse. If they'd drank just a little bit more, too sloppy and stupid to talk, this could've been a rushed and forgettable hookup and nothing else. Or maybe it wouldn't be happening at all, since they would've just passed out instead. When he tilts his chin back down, his nose crinkles a little when he smiles. ]

Arched back, huh? I'll get you to bend over backwards. Then we'll talk.

[ One of these days, he's gonna have to show him. Funnily enough, even all this talk and all those really sexually charged sessions have yet to make him realize his own appeal, mostly because he's yet to hear anything that'd indicate to him it'd be appreciated. That, and he's not creative enough to know just how far that level of flexibility will take him. But he'll find out.

His fingers trail down Gladio's jaw and then fall away, followed shortly after by his second hand. He could keep going at those ears all day, especially now that he knows what a trigger they are, but he needs at least one hand free to prop himself up on his bent elbow, and he's hoping to have a whole lot more to do with his hands soon enough. Frankly, he'd forgotten about the game that got them here, to this moment, but when he catches on, he grins, too. ]

Dare you to show me what you've got in the arma— army— arm-thingy that's supposed to be so messy. Buuut...

[ Ah. It's only when his tongue ghosts across his lower lip that he tastes blood and realizes it's properly bleeding, but even if he probably should, he doesn't bother to wipe the trail of it off his mouth (or his chin, or the side of his neck... whoops). He'll get to it in a minute. ]

...Y'gotta let me use whatever it is on you.