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]

[ There it is. Not the limit of what Law's capable of handling, by any means, but enough to get a real reaction out of him. That is, his eyes widen as Gladio works his third finger in, fingers digging into his shoulders, back going rigid for all of the few seconds it takes him to account for that much more—when he finally relaxes, it's with a hard breath out, and he tilts his head back down to press his face against Gladio's jaw, briefly held still. The noise that comes out of him... it's a mess. A little bit of a groan, a little bit of a whine, a little bit of an agonized sigh. This is a really weird sort of torture, so good it's almost bad, but then right before it can trip over the line into uncomfortable, Gladio has some trick of the wrist or something else he does that reels it back into the realm of overwhelming pleasure, instead. Law had psyched himself up for Gladio to be talented and experienced, but what he hadn't accounted for is what that would mean. What it would feel like, in practice. As it turns out, he's pretty sure nothing in any world could've prepared him for all this, though. It's just something you have to experience for yourself, and boy is he a big fan of doing exactly that. ]

I'm... I'm okay. I'm good, don't stop.

[ Just in case there was any concern that it might've been too much: not a chance. Frankly, there's a good bet that it's a bit much so quickly, but it's going to be awhile before Law understands the difference between what his body can handle when it comes to things like working out versus what it can handle in bed. Those are two completely separate sets of criteria! But here he is thinking that it isn't over until it's unbearable, and since it's never anywhere near that, that means he can keep going. No limits.

He shifts on his knees, lifting himself up with Gladio's help, and when he sort of inadvertently sinks back again, effectively fucking himself on those probing fingers? There's a real gasp, so sharp he almost chokes on his own spit. His moan is muffled into the side of Gladio's neck, and he answers that way-too-good-sounding collection of words with another one, shivering across the shoulders. At this point, he can't even guess what it is he's saying, can barely tell the syllables apart from each other. It all just sounds like an absolutely delicious bunch of purring, and the tone... filthy. Whatever it is, it makes his whole body blush. ]

I—mmmghhh.

[ Speaking of how he looks at him, when Law gathers up enough strength to pull back enough to do just that, the expression on his face is absolutely wrecked, yeah, but it also doesn't scream "no clue what's going on." He looks at Gladio like he knows exactly what he just said, flushed and open-mouthed. His thighs tremble, but he's not brave enough to try that little maneuver he just did again yet. It might actually kill him. ]

I bet you're... saying everything I always wanted you to say, right now. Kinda glad I can't be sure, 'cause if I was, I don't think I'd be able to handle that and this. I don't... it's just... people like me don't ever get to be that lucky. 'S too good to be real.

[indeferent]

_{[ Stop reaches his ears and true to his earlier word Gladio does just that until the inflection in Law's voice seems to tell him that it's fine and to keep going. He doesn't need much encouragement after that, doubly so when Law shifts up and rocks back down and lets that too-sweet crooning moan out right into Gladio's ear. The warm puff of his breath tickles his fur and makes it flick twice, and the shaky roll of an R sends another tingle up Gladio's spine. Yeah, as much as he wants to understand him so badly right now, he also doesn't want to have to lean over to untangle his medallion nor does he want to pull his fingers free. Not while he's able to pull these sorts of sounds out of him with a simple tweak of his wrist or a curl of his fingers. ]}

You're really gonna have to teach me your language. Even if I gotta beg I wanna know how, 'cause you're killin' me here...

<sub>[ That nice little "good"? That's the good shit. Gladio steals a glance at Law's face and for a good long while his mouth goes dry. That look? That's not fair at all and the bestial side of him makes it known with a low, keening whine that he has no control over. It's not really as sad as it sounds, though. It's more... needy. Both ears slant backwards upon realizing just what sort of noise he'd gone and done made, almost sheepishly so — he's learning more about behemoths like this than he ever did from those old nature documentaries and the real things themselves, and... maybe he's also learning a few new things about himself in the process.

Strangely enough? He's not as intimidated by it as he might've been in the past, and that's all probably thanks to Law being Law. He may not be able to see it himself but Gladio sure can, and under that look that may as well be begging to be ravished properly he knows there's an amazingly strong, equally stubborn and stupidly kind man. And... for this moment in time, he's Gladio's. Language barrier and all. ]</sub>

How're you feeling? Good? More? Slow? Or...?

_{[ Good keeps the same steady pace. More means he tries to press and reach deeper, and of course slow means more of "good" but with a slower pump of his fingers. Spoil the daylights out of him. ]}

[counterattack]

[ If he should think twice about those growls and purrs, he doesn't. Honestly, if anything, it just adds to the experience, and... maybe he should feel weird about that, too, but nope. Hard to say if it's just that he's already run the gauntlet of experiences dealing with monsterified people or being one himself, or if he's just a freak, but either way—Gladio lets out that animalistic noise and Law answers with a sound of his own, decidedly more human, but the sentiment is the same. Those ears pin back and Law brings his hands up to rub behind them, balancing himself in Gladio's lap with nothing but the squeeze of his knees around the outside of his thighs.

The gasp that's dragged out of him winds up muffled against Gladio's lips, and so does the warbling moan afterward. There's one particular thing on offer here that gets the biggest reaction out of him: any guesses on which one? It's the one that turns the plaintive kisses to love bites and the steady tremble of his muscles as he tries to hold still to give way to writhing. ]

Mm—that. Yeah. More.

[ That's a new word that's easy for him to learn, too. Not one he's used to using when it comes to wanting for anything, but if this is where it gets him, he could sure come around to the idea. Just fuck him up, fam. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Alright, maybe he's going to have to spend some time out in the wilds where the incense is still thick. Maybe he's going to have to spend some quality time with that other side of himself and get a better handle on it because the deep, guttural snarl that slips out in kind makes his skin flush down to his shoulders. Maybe he's going to owe Zephyr a formal apology for returning his son to him with a throat full of bruises that extends down to his chest. Maybe...

Maybe Gladio shoves all of that away and chokes down a second growl into the space between their mouths. He asks for more through a thick accent and with those fingers delightfully curled around the curve of his ear and touching soft fur how could he refuse? How, he asks? The answer is simple, really:

He doesn't. ]</sub>

—Yeah.

_{[ It's easier with Law sitting up on his knees like this. It's easier for Gladio to curl an arm around the small of his back and pull him close, eyes dropping between them to admire his own handiwork. The trail of hickeys that seem to bleed from his collar to parts of his chest, all the way down to the ones littered across his hips. Not to toot his own horn(s) by any means but he thinks he's done a fantastic job leaving his mark and he almost can't wait to see how much Law has marked him up in return. For now it's only second place to easing his fingers out of Law with some reluctance and blindly patting along the mattress for that damned jar— ]}

[counterattack]

[ Gladio might flush, but Law finds some way to manage to grin, the corner of his mouth twisting at that rough snarl of his. In some ways, he understands that even better than he does the human speech, even through all the intonations and pantomime. It's true enough that he has a pretty solid grasp on not just the farm animals but beasts now, so maybe that's what makes it easy for him. He knows a good, satisfied snarl when he hears it, even though he's never... well. He's certainly never heard it like this.

Continuing the trend, Law whines as Gladio's fingers slip free, as his cock slides against Gladio's stomach when he's pulled in close. Breathless and not just a little shaky, he exhales and all the strength feels like it drains out of his muscles now that his whole body isn't completely taut. His fingers drag down from behind Gladio's ears to the back of his neck, blunt nails carding down his shoulderblades, his back. When he catches that hand fumbling for the jar, he doesn't even think twice about the thoughts frantically pinging around in his head. Drunk, worked up, eager, something else—he has no idea what it is that loosens his tongue up this way and doesn't care. He just acts, pressing himself closer, leaning up toward Gladio's ear and murmuring, hoarse: ]

You better not hold back.

[ It's slow and pointedly enunciated, like if he says it really clearly, Gladio will know exactly what it means. Honestly, in a rough purr like that? It does kind of speak for itself, what he wants, what he's asking for, what he's encouraging. Which is funny, because once again, he doesn't really know, himself. It just feels right. Speaking and acting on emotion and raw hormones, hardly able to hold still, starved for touch again the moment he isn't saturated in it. Spoiled.

And... alright, he can't take it, he leans to the side to grab that jar and press it into Gladio's hand. It's right there. How's he supposed to wait? ]

...I mean about anything. Show me everything. I'll still like it 'cause it's you. You know that, right? I couldn't feel any other way when it comes to you.

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Something about the way he says that wracks his body with a violent shudder, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Even the fur on his ears seems to ripple right along with the rest of him, each rolled letter sinking its teeth in, and the pointed enunciation shaking his being like a ragdoll. Yeah, he gets it. Even if his mind doesn't fully understand it, instinct does. For a moment or two Gladio takes the time to relish in the feeling of Law's nails scratching against his ears, and further back to his nape and spine. The space between his shoulders itch something fierce under the assault and with it comes a quiet, pleased grumble that may as well do all the speaking for him.

That's it. Right there. Don't stop. Ple-e-e-aaaaase...

But he does stop. Law shifts and Gladio damn near follows suit, stopped only by the smooth ceramic slipping into his palm. By now he's able to pick out more words in Law's tongue like "you" and "I", and though he knows he's missing quite a lot of the middlemen it still makes sense. Gladio actually has to look up at him with how he's perched and poised over his thighs, but he doesn't mind it in the least. Like this he's able to tilt his head and press his cheek against Law's chest and were it not for the curved horns he might've even been able to tuck his head under his chin like a proper sap. Since he can't, he makes due with listening to the steady thump of his heart. The soft vibration of his words, the rough and pleasant lilt of the Dahnan language on his tongue, and the sheer warmth radiating from his body. They both run hot, don't they? That might be an issue later, but for now it's something Gladio relishes.

Eventually he has to pull away but not without taking his empty hand and grabbing one of Law's wrists. Trusting him to keep himself steady Gladio gathers a thick glob of lube and starts to slick himself up, head tilting to murmur roughly against his skin. ]</sub>

R'member...

_{[ One hand reaches back to pull at Law's cheeks, the other leaving his cock long enough to take Law by the wrist and tugs his hand down to close his fingers around Gladio's girth. His hand settles on top and as Gladio lines the head up with his rim, he does his damnest to keep his voice level. ]}

Next time I'll fuck you like we're the last two people on Copalli if that's what you want, but for now you're gonna go slow. And if you gotta say somethin' important... _{[ It takes him a moment to recall the words the locals used, but he gets it. ]} Medallion.

_{[ You know, just in case. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Law sits up a little higher, heart hammering in his chest so hard he's almost positive Gladio will be able to hear it from where he's got his face pressed. In the same vein, he's starting to recognize repetitive words and sounds—and then there's a couple that need no introduction to his ear, like Copalli, slow, and medallion. And fuck, honestly. It's not hard to fill in some of the blanks from there, even if some of the message is lost. His breath hitches, leaning back just slightly, questioning, does he want the medallion? Now? He'd reach for it, but then he realizes he's giving him the option. Slow. And if he needs something that pantomime won't help with, put it back on and say so.

In spite of how absolutely out of his mind he feels, Law shakes his head. Nah, won't need that. Anything he needs to say, he can say it with his body. He's already making a case for it, everything from his expression to the thrum of restless energy running through him speaking volumes. ]

You worry too much, man.

[ All things considered, he should be worrying a little bit more, himself. His arm bends back to curl his fingers around Gladio's cock, a fresh wave of flushed-beet-red rushing to his face and chest, the sound escapes his mouth completely strangled in his throat as the head presses against his entrance. Then he has a brief moment of sensible panic, just for a second, but just as quickly as it comes, it's gone again. His free hand on Gladio's shoulder, he eases himself back, entirely too tense until he remembers to let his breath back out. It presses in and Law makes an animal sound of his own, partly because his brain is completely and utterly wiped of any thoughts at all.

See? Medallion's useless. It can't translate the low whine he lets out. Probably could've translated his third, hoarsely whispered fuck of the night, though. ]

[indeferent]

_{[ Now where has he heard that before? Not the words — they were, as they'd say back in Lucis, Solheimian to my ears — but the tone. It's so familiar that Gladio finds himself rolling his eyes and shifting up to bump his forehead against anywhere he can reach, settling on lightly bonking into his chin like some sort of needy cat seeking attention. And isn't he technically a cat? A fucked up, gigantic, roided out nightmare version of one, but still a cat. It's plenty to get his own point across and despite his own worries, Gladio huffs out a bark of laughter. ]}

I worry exactly the right amount.

<sub>[ Astrals, if only they knew they'd hit a moment of fluency right then and there. As it is he was only able to pick out Law's tone and two words, and then Gladio's got Law helping to guide — or keep him steady, either way. While he starts to ease himself down at his own pace, Gladio wipes his hand off on the inside of Law's thigh and settles it over his waist, thumb pressing into a hickey he'd left earlier. Just to keep him steady and to slow him down himself if Gladio really has to.

And maybe to keep himself in check, too. Just a little. Even with all that prep he's still tight, pulling a quiet hiss of his own from behind his teeth. Over time his hand abandons his waist to run up and down Law's flank, fingers tracing the odd scar here and there and over his ribs. ]</sub>

Shh... Breathe. That's it. Just like before, yeah? Breathe in 'n out. I ain't goin' nowhere so take your time. S'the other thing you don't wanna rush 'cause as much as I like being a pain in your ass, I don't wanna be that kind of a pain.

[counterattack]

[ Breathe he understands. Breathe he likes to hear, too. It's how he deals with anything and everything, and it's going to get him through this. Law murmurs, wordless, each time Gladio says it, his breaths shuddering in and out in his chest, never quite able to get that breath to run all the way from the pit of his stomach. Painful? Well... it's no wyvern attack, anyway. But yeah, that's—a lot. His lips pull back and he pauses, almost impossibly balanced in spite of everything happening, held in freeze-frame with his legs alone until he can relax enough to move again.

Somehow, he's pretty sure he just caught Gladio making a stupid joke again. Somehow. Not sure what joke, but his voice just has that tone... that "dad jokes" tone. Brow furrowed, he turns his head and rasps his teeth against Gladio's jaw. ]

Seriously?

[ Once he doesn't need his hand holding things steady anymore, he's free to grasp both Gladio's shoulders, and while that's where he starts to reach, where that second hand ends up on is curled around one of his horns. He doesn't tug and pull his head around the way he had earlier, he just works with the leverage of where Gladio's head already is, a beam to keep him from feeling like he might just lose his grip and go too fast, too much, too hard. Even if he wanted to push this further than he's prepared for, his body's not about to tolerate any of that.

The discomfort's all over his face by the time he's fully seated, but on the other hand, he's finally, actually able to breathe. It's getting him settled, little by little, and sorely needed; you could otherwise cut the tension riveting off him with a knife. ]

Dunno what gives you the right to be, nngh, built like this. 's basically a lethal weapon.

[ He can only make this commentary because he knows Gladio's not going to get it, but if he figures it out... well, he's got other things to be flustered about that are a little more, ah. Pressing. At the moment. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Law's hand closes around a horn and Gladio tilts his head up to offer a sturdier anchor. Somewhere down the line he was finally able to understand the appeal in the more... adventerous novels he'd picked up in the library or skimmed through while browsing a shop, and he's starting to think those authors were definitely, 100-percent onto something. If he were a more eloquent man he might even try writing himself, but... Nah. Gladio knows where his strengths lie, and he finds himself glancing down at his hands sweeping across Law's body as the thought passes despite the odd angle of his head. The path they take is automatic now — he keeps stroking his side like he's some skittish animal, while the other slides up from the curve of his ass to press into the base of Law's tail for a time. One, two... Ten seconds tops, and then he feels the back of his thighs meet his lap and Gladio thinks he might actually die.

Not really, but it feels like it. Each intake of breath assaults his senses with something that he hadn't been able to pick up before; the obvious culprits of sweat and sex were there of course, but so was something that was distinctly Law. Something that he decides he wants to keep all to himself.

Gladio reaches up to cradle the back of Law's head and coaxes a kiss out of him, one more gentle than anything he's given him up to this point. Feather-light and tender, Gladio gives it his all to pass on the surge of affection that blossoms within his chest. He really, really doesn't know what he did to "win" Law's own feelings but he must've done something right somewhere down the line. Maybe it's the Astrals' way of apologizing for all the hell they put Gladio and the others through (and the hell to come). Maybe it's just luck. ]</sub>

See? Nice 'n easy. I'm all yours, okay?

_{[ His hand abandons the spot by his tail to skirt around Law's thigh, fingertips dancing over the mess of scars running down his leg to his calf and around to the inside of his thigh where the skin is softer. For a moment Gladio contents himself with kneading the muscle, and he wonders. He keeps wondering even as he trails his hand up higher and palms Law's cock against his stomach. Maybe he should've gone for it and taken him for a ride, but... The door was open — blown straight off its hinges — so it's not as if Gladio won't get his chance in the future. Hell, he even went as far as to encourage it, didn't he? ]}

Too much? More?

[counterattack]

[ Each breath feels laborious, completely manual in its process. If he doesn't focus on controlling it, he's positive he'll be right back to panting and shaking, and there'll be plenty of time for all of that later. Once they really get going and he has a good, solid reason to completely come to pieces again. The distractions help immensely, too, and he finds himself leaning in, melting against Gladio's mouth, relinquishing his horn to cradle his jaw, the warmth of it coupled with every little movement of his own body nudging that intrusion deep inside him provoking another quiet whine. They're both hot-blooded as hell, and it's now a sweltering Copallic afternoon, but even all of that can't account for the beads of sweat that trickle from his hairline, along his neck and down his back. Coiled up in each other like this, it's something more sensual than taxing, and wipes the wince right off Law's face.

His breath comes out in a hard pant when their mouths part, but it's still measured. Head tilting, he lets the unfamiliar words wash over him, the growl and rasp of them. I something you something, warm and soothing. It makes him shudder. It makes him smile. ]

"I'm all yours."

[ It's easy to repeat back the sounds, and even though he's not completely positive about what they mean, he knows it's something... affectionate. It's almost enough to dredge up some of that good ol' bashfulness when he says it, but—not quite. He hasn't come this far to start getting shy now.

Even if he wanted to, that hand on his cock swipes that right off the table for him. His hips shift automatically, and that sets off a whole chain reaction, pleasure shooting up through him like a fucking lightning bolt. Eyes widening, he grabs onto Gladio's shoulder again for support. ]

No—I mean, yes. Yeah. That's good, keep doing that. Fff— [ He needs to remember to use the right word. It gets blurted messily out, ] More.

[ Like before, it takes him a moment to be brave enough to try that move again, but eventually, he gives his hips a slow, easy rock forward. Just to test the waters, but it hits him like a tidal wave, head bowing forward with a drawn out groan. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Despite his best efforts Gladio finds himself laughing quietly between them. Not because of his words being parroted back at him in Law's heavily-accented voice, nor is it because of the way he stumbles over his words. It's because of how earnest he sounds. Gladio's ears prick up to catch all of it — the flustered no that becomes that rough yeah followed by a raspy more. He gets it, he really does, which is the biggest reason he remains completely still save for tracing his fingers down the length of Law's cock while he gathers himself. By the time he finds the nerve to move Gladio's got him in a loose fist and taking the time to get a good, proper feel for him.

Even when he rolls forward into Gladio's lap, he's statue still. No need to spook him just yet, but he makes his own satisfaction known with a slow, shaky exhale and a barely-there scrape of teeth against Law's jaw. ]</sub>

There you go... Here, try it like this—

_{[ Another slow intake of breath and Gladio smooths sweat-slicked hair back, letting his nails scratch over his scalp, down the back of his neck, and his spine all the way down to his waist. He doesn't take control away, gods no, instead he presses against his side, then "pulls" him back. A slow, easy-going roll that makes Gladio's composure slip just enough to meet Law halfway on one particular pass. Behave, he tells himself. ]}

Like riding a Spiracorn, yeah? One of the not-batshit-crazy ones, but I think if you can ride one of them... _{[ Gladio's voice drops to a rough, almost-needy rumble that he whispers into Law's ear. ]} Then I think you can handle me without any issues.

_{[ And technically he already is handling him, so... Law's pretty much golden. Gladio keeps his hand at his hip until the rhythm sticks, then he returns it up to wipe the sweat from Law's brow and cradles his face in his palm. At least like this it also means Gladio can keep looking at him too. ]}

Feels like... you're tryin' to squeeze the life outta me, you know that?

[counterattack]

[ That whisper in his ear makes Law shiver so violently he almost loses control of everything completely: mental faculties, his body, his breathing, everything. His breath stutters and he digs his fingers into Gladio's shoulder, lips pursed to try and hold back the noise he makes only for it to escape through his nose, a plaintive, animal whine. For a moment or two, he can't even tell if it feels good or bad. Eventually, he realizes it's so good it's just overwhelming, short-circuiting his senses and driving him absolutely wild in a way that he can hardly manage to react to save for open-mouthed gasps and noise, so tense it hurts, then loose and limber again when he finally remembers to breathe. And when Gladio rocks up to meet him? God, fucking forget about it. His head tips back, looking straight up to the heavens like he's praying for strength.

Eventually, though, he gets it. He's good at finding the rhythm, even better with a little help. His breaths begin to match the steady back and forth of his hips, tilting his face back down into Gladio's waiting hands. That eye contact is... fucking sending him, honestly, but he holds it together, really taking in the look of him for what feels like the first time in awhile. Seems like ever since he'd started working him over with his fingers he hadn't really been able to focus on anything with his eyes because every other sense in his body was hitting critical mass and something had to shut down.

His arms start to drape around him as he loosens up, but then his ear picks up on something it'd completely glossed over for a second there, the word lost in the purrs and growls of Gladio's funny-sounding language. ]

Spirac—no!! [ nyej!! ] Not even close!

[ Holy fuck it feels weird to laugh right now. He gets about two hahas out and then it all goes strangled, hips bucking out of rhythm for a beat. This is, categorically, the most surreal anything has ever felt in his life. ]

You better not've said what I think you said. This is nn—nnnnothing like riding one of those, trust me. In, uh. In a good way. A really good way.

[ Why would you put these kinds of thoughts in the back of his head, man. ]

[indeferent]

_{[ Now he really can't help it. Gladio wrinkles his nose and laughs into Law's skin and for the first time in a long time he actually feels like he's a twenty-four year old "kid" without the weight of the world on his shoulders. There's something in the way Law protests that pulls that side of Gladio out into the light and until he figures out what it is? He's latching onto it with all his might and both he and Behemoths have a lot of it to go around. Doubly so when Law tries to laugh himself, increasing Gladio's snickers. ]}

Mmhm. Now m'pretty glad you can't understand what I'm sayin' 'cause I think I'd be gettin' throttled right 'bout now.

<sub>[ Not like that's necessarily a bad thing. Gladio may have never let it get that far in the past but he'd be willing to try new things. With the hand still cupping his face, Gladio guides him in for another kiss; he heard both murmurs of good out of Law and frankly he's running with it. A second, a third kiss and Gladio shifts a bit further onto the bed and leans back on an elbow for a moment, taking the time to simply look at his partner. Flushed skin, pretty eyes, a perfect arch of his spine and his hand still working Law's cock over like it's the most normal, casual thing in the world... Yeah, he's got a pretty damn good view from here, doesn't he?

It's a real shame he doesn't have a camera to keep the moment forever but then again maybe that's what makes this that much better.

The only real drawback is it means Gladio has to pull his hand from his face, but that also means he can settle it back over his hip and guide him back into that steady, rolling rhythm they'd started to set up before. Once it's starting to get back on track, he reaches to take one of Law's hands and settles it on his chest, coaxing him to lean forward and into him more. ]</sub>

Forward... and back. Put— move against me like this. You'll have... better control. Don't gotta worry 'bout your balance either. Listen to what your body tells you 'n go with it.

[counterattack]

[ Law goes after those kisses like they're as good as air to him, even though, in reality, they kind of have the opposite effect. By the time Gladio leans back he's breathless again, panting raggedly as he finds the rhythm with his hips again, back and forth—slow. Slower than he thought he'd want to go, but even as he's adjusted to the, uh, size of what he's dealing with here, he doesn't find himself needing, wanting, or even really capable of pushing it that much harder or faster. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not even at all. What they've got going here is finally starting to feel really, really goddamn good, and why fix what ain't broke? ]

Nnh—? Wa—wait, lemme... ah...

[ Moving feels weird, moving feels w—actually, he's fine. That, too, requires him to take it slow and easy. Not because it hurts; more because of the opposite, that every little thing is overwhelming. He'd thought it was when Gladio had been working his fingers into him, but now it's all but constant, giving him an almost pins and needles feeling in his limbs and lower belly that, honestly, makes him want to just lose his ever-loving mind and howl a little bit.

Carefully, gradually, he leans his weight forward with his hand on Gladio's chest, warbling as he shifts, searching for that rhythm again. It's less movement with his hips now and more with the bend of his legs, forward and—fuck, back. He lights up like a firework when he gets it, head dropping between his shoulders. ]

That's it...

[ What's it? He honestly doesn't even know, it's just something he blurts out, but the sentiment is universal, beyond language. When someone gets it just right and is feeling it in all the best ways, there's no mistaking what it sounds like. Not that Law makes it a mystery with the other sounds he makes, either. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ There's that Shield-level discipline again. Law slows himself down and Gladio stills, the only part of his body that moves being his thumb against his hip in light, encouraging circles. He waits, gnaws on his lip simply because he can, and listens. He thinks he's doing a damn fine job of it too even as Law shifts and moves forward, exhaling like he'd just hit his breaking point in an argument — slow and drawn out, only there's no bickering to be had. His head rolls back and one long leg bends at the knee to act as extra support should Law lean back again, and Gladio's hand slips down from his waist to run along his thigh.

He even gives his leg a gentle pat-pat once Law finds it, Gladio's mouth pulling into a lazy, crooked smile. There they go. Every time Law shifts back, Gladio rolls halfway up to meet him. There's no need to sprint to the finish when they can meander along and take in the sights and (obviously) the feeling at the same time. It's better that way anyway, he thinks. It's better to savor the moment, enjoy oneself and more importantly have fun. ]</sub>

There... you go... Go with what feels right. You're doin' so go—oh.

_{[ A sharp, steady inhale and he finds himself squeezing Law's calf, brows pinched together and eyes squeezing shut. That's it. Yeah, whatever Law just did? It's good. He's got this. ]}

—Good. Good, Law. Six, do that again.

_{[ Gladio squeezes his leg again, encouraging. Then back up to his hip where he squeezes one last time before sliding around to settle over the small of his back, just to follow his rhythm a little easier. No matter how badly he wants to take charge and drive Law crazy, Gladio isn't stupid enough to interrupt this gods-blessed gift literally seated in his lap. He's always been pretty and cute before but now he's— ]}

Beautiful... You know that?

[counterattack]

[ Good. Again. He's got those words on lock, at least, and more importantly, they actually manage to break through the haze and register in his brain. And there's a lot of haze to break through, especially once Gladio starts to react, to move, turning this from something Law kind of had the sense he was struggling through on his own to something that's really shared between them, give and take. Mutual satisfaction. Steeling himself, Law tries to move the exact same way again, but this time his whole body gets into it, he overshoots the movement, and y'know what? That's fine. That's good, too. Maybe it isn't quite so rhythmic, but when it sends sparks of pleasure straight through his whole body like that, he's willing to overlook any missteps.

And besides, after a moment, that overshot motion of his hips ends up becoming the new pace. Law bends his body a little closer, trying out how the gradually changing angles feel. That feels pretty good— no, wait, it was better when he was sitting back— oh, there, that's amazing, just like that. It gets harder to control the closer he presses, but at least he makes it perfectly clear that he's not afraid to experiment a little. Especially not now that the weirdness is starting to ebb away, discomfort replaced with satisfaction, uncertainty replaced with the sort of single-minded recklessness that only good sex can do to a person. ]

Mm—hmm? "Beautiful"?

[ That sounds like... he's not sure. If he were to realize it was a compliment, he'd probably be self-conscious. It sounds good, whatever it is. Maybe a remark on how he's doing, a request for something else? Law reaches up to wipe the sweat from his face before it can run down into his eyes, swiping a hand through his damp hair with a reedy moan, working his hips back and forth, chasing the press of Gladio's cock into him and the curl of his fingers around his own without really knowing which he wants more. ]

Do you want—I think I can handle it if you—just a little more.

[ Gesturing kind of airily to try and make his point. More they both know, but what's the sign language you can go off, but not too much or I'll die? He does his best to convey it, anyway. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ As Law shifts and changes his pace above, Gladio can only mumble his praises. He keeps sweeping his hand over the back of his hips, up his spine to his shoulders, and back down to stroke along the entire length of his tail from base to tip before returning to his point of origin just a few scant inches above. He's... Yeah, okay. Gladio knew he was a quick learner from their time spent at the Tempering Grounds so he really shouldn't be too surprised that he's got this figured out already, but damn if he isn't a little jealous.

He's so caught up in watching— feeling every little way Law moves that he doesn't quite catch the motion of his hands at first. For a few moments he stares up at him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tries to desperately understand what he's trying to say both verbally and physically. More, but... the gesture for slow? Faster? Gladio isn't a hundred percent but it's something to start with, so he nods once. More, but slower. That makes more sense than trying to decipher it as one of their other signals that roughly meant "angry chicken behind the wood stove watch out" which... now that he lets it sink in, doesn't make any damn sense. He'll blame it on the fact that he's not exactly thinking with the right head at the moment. Regardless...

That's something he can do. Easily. ]</sub>

Mnph... Alright. Here, hold on 'n move—

_{[ The hand at his hip presses more incessantly, pulling Law as close as he can physically get, and then Gladio rolls the both of them until he's able to get his knees underneath himself. It's slow-going and more than a little awkward but eventually he settles into a kneel with Law still in his lap — still in control — and secure in his arms. He winds up having to release his hold on Law's cock to do it, but he makes up for it by using both hands to support and knead at his thighs and ass as if his life depends on it. C'mon, get that leg right... about... there. There? That seems right. Once he's got himself good and steady Gladio rocks up in an equally clumsy rhythm, eventually leveling out into a slow, even slide. Not too much lest he break Law, but enough to drive himself deep and careful. All of Gladio, but not all of his force. It's almost too easy to lose himself in the feeling of it all and before he knows it he's got his forehead bumping up against Law's — horns be damned — and eyes half-shut, breathing uneven and punctuated by the occasional shit. ]}

Tell me... if it's too much... 'n I'll ease up. S'a lot, but— You've got this? Yeah?

_{[ He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question but it's a little hard to think clearly. Really, Gladio could die right here and now and while he'd be pissed off about it as a Shield, he'd be more than content as a person. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Having Gladio take over just that much is enough to alleviate Law of a lot of extra work, something terribly challenging for a first-timer, no matter how eager, flexible, and determined they are. It's a tough position to start off with, and while he's managed like a champ until now, this—this gives him the edge he needs to keep it rolling, but without the struggle. His arms curl tight around Gladio's back, fingers pressing in against the divots of his spine, breaths coming in deep and letting back out in hard, shaky exhales. For a moment he has to shut his eyes to steady himself, but when they peel partway open, he lets his head loll against the curving base of one horn and tries, mostly in vain, not to pant or make the agonized noises he makes right in Gladio's face.

His mouth moves, but it's no lost in translation issue that nothing comes out—he's just at a total loss for words. There's nothing but a dazed nod. It's one of those things he doesn't need to understand to get the meaning of, something to the effect of is this what you wanted, can you handle it, is it good, are you good? and yeah, yeah, god, he's good alright. It's a lot and he's most definitely good, cleaving himself as physically close as he can get, trembling without the friction to rely on but still fully aware of feeling his nerves start to fray and that edge rushing up to meet him, tipping closer and closer to tumbling over it with every second. He lets out a noise, sharp, hoarse, and aching, grasping on tighter still. ]

Gladio—

[ At this point, he's completely lost any notion of what he's doing with his body, not running with any conscious thought at all but following Gladio's movements automatically, chasing whatever will get him more of that with his hips. Is he maybe grinding down a little harder than he probably should? Yeah, maybe, but he doesn't mean to. There isn't even one brain cell left. It's just all hormones, all that building orgasm taking over absolutely everything. In a way, it's own kind of awakening, that in the zone feeling where he doesn't have to think about which punches to throw, what moves to use, when to sweep and when to dodge and when to strike; it all just happens naturally. This is—well, it's sure going to change the way he's connected to his body going forward, that's for sure. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Should anyone ask Gladio why he once threw himself to the proverbial wolves as often as he did, he'd answer with this. Pride had a small part to play in it (obviously), but it was everything Law was doing to him that was the biggest draw — the blunt bite of his nails digging into his back and spine, the almost-keening, near involuntary gasps and whines that slip from Law's lips, the dazed look in sea-colored eyes, the tenderness in them and his voice... That's not even getting into the rest of it, too. The trust Law must have to just let Gladio go speaks volumes to the elder of the two. The near-painful clench of his body when he shifts a certain way, the ache building in Gladio's thighs and the tremble he feels upon running his hands over Law's own, and—

Fuck. Fuck, man— the way Law rasps his name damn near makes Gladio keen. Purple fur bristles and rises with the thrill of it and if Law bears down harder than he ought to, Gladio is just as guilty by groping at his hips and pulling him down. Deeper, more needy and wanting. Anything to feel closer, to get closer to that comfortable warmth growing low in his belly. All those flings were never just about the sex, but the connection.

One Gladio never managed to find until Copalli. Who'd a thunk it'd take traveling across time and space to an entirely new world to find it? The thought alone makes his breath hitch, makes him press their foreheads just a little closer together until he feels like he could easily read Law's thoughts if he just tried hard enough. ]</sub>

I-I know. Shit, Law—

_{[ He knows. He teeters on the precipice himself and trusting Law to keep his hold good and tight, Gladio worms his hand back between their bellies and starts stroking with a clumsy rhythm that probably won't even matter. His head tilts a little to look, swallowing hard. No matter how good his endurance is even Gladio isn't immune to getting a little breathless like this. ]}

Should've... Ah... Should'a asked before if y'want it in or out... S'okay though. I got you. You first. C'mon, lemme see you. Lemme hear...

<sub>[ Let me feel. ]

Gimme all you've got, Law. I can take it.</sub>

[counterattack]

[ He'd never have imagined in a million years that he'd be here, like this, pretty much... ever, really. Maybe someday, but not now. Not on his eighteenth birthday, in Copalli, with somebody from a completely different world. Somebody he's been attracted to for a year, besides, who already professed to having never noticed he felt that way. If he could think straight, he'd have to wonder—is it the alcohol? The incense, even? Or is it really just him, something he said or did? Just physical attraction, animal instinct coupled with clouded judgment, or something more than that? Law hadn't ever really dared to think too hard on his feelings, but it's hard to help it now, their foreheads pressed together, wrapped around each other like a couple of snakes, so close it almost feels like they're sharing the same breaths back and forth, drenched with sweat and whispering each other's names. Barely any common language between them beyond what few words they've managed to teach each other in this short span of time, and yet when he'd said he knew how to talk with his body, he hadn't realized just how different it would be, how much more intense.

It's literal, the way he answers every movement of Gladio's body with his, giving as good as he gets—more than he gets, even after it starts to drift into rough territory, hard on him and verging into painful, but he can't bring himself to help it when it feels like they both want it, maybe even need it, so bad. Anyone who's ever been deprived will tell you that having it just once won't satisfy you; it'll only make the desperation for it worse. Being touch-starved isn't something that can be cured in one sitting; it can't even be helped in the moment it's happening. Law's fingers drag up Gladio's back, lips pulling back with a strangled moan, hips bucking, pressing himself closer, pushing himself harder, somewhat unwittingly conveying the less literal sentiment of finally having that year-long pining for contact come to an end and doing anything and everything he can to keep from having it happen again.

Gladio's hand closes around his cock and Law makes a sound like he's been punched in the stomach, it all hits him that hard. Taut, riveted and shaking before he even spills, he whines and then keens, eyes squeezing shut. If he'd thought the first round earlier had been intense, this—god. He comes so hard he sees stars, not wailing and howling but crying out like he's fucking dying with broken syllables that happen to be some particularly colorful swears he picked up from his stint working with the Renans.

The only thing he's even vaguely conscious of is how hard he digs his blunt nails into the blades of Gladio's shoulders, and eventually he loosens his grip, leaving a collection of crescent-shaped marks in his wake. But that doesn't mean he lets go, absolutely not. And as for the rest of him, he stays as close as Gladio lets him, gasping his name out between breaths. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Law's nails scratch against an old scar nestled somewhere in the tailfeathers of his tattoo and the noise it pulls from Gladio should be embarrassing to him — a hitch of breath and a high, almost-whine that ends with a slurred curse of his own intermingled with Law's name. Did he know that spot was so sensitive all these years later? Obviously not given the reaction and the fact that no one has touched it before now. Hell, even now Gladio can count the number of people who've touched the massive one bisecting his torso on one hand; Law. Noctis. Sura. And... He thinks that's it. They're all sensitive in varying degrees, but that one... It's all he can do to not beg and plead for more. He's not even sure if he can form the right words for it, so he sticks to mumbling Law's name over and over.

He's so lost in it that the choking, keening cry damn near sends Gladio into a panic. It's only the press of Law's knees into his sides and the all-too-familiar rake of nails down his back, the violent shake and the heat splashing across his fingers that pulls him back to reality. It's the sudden tightness around his own cock buried as far as he can go, and Gladio's pace becomes erratic. Law has a deathgrip on him in more ways than one and Gladio manages two, maybe three more strong rolls before he follows with a snarl and bared teeth. A growl that's felt more than heard, reverberating from deep within his chest and spilling deep.

It'll warrant a slew of apologies once both of their heads clear, but for now? Gladio rides the high of it all and slows his pace to a crawl. He gives Law everything he's got until he's wrung out and shaking and then — only then — does Gladio wrap both arms around his back and slowly rocks the both of them back, back, and back. He falls against the bed with him secure in his hold, and he just... lies there.

He can hear his heart beating a hundred miles an hour in his ears. His lungs burn and his chest heaves with each breath taken, but none of it matters in the moment. Gladio reaches up with a slightly shaking hand, carding his fingers through sweat-slicked hair and seeking out a particularly good spot to scratch along Law's scalp. Breathe, it says. Breathe. He's... He's got Law.

He's got him. ]</sub>

[counterattack]

[ There aren't any words for how it feels, or for how he feels, and that's good, because he's not so sure he could speak anyway. That growl, honestly, is kind of apt. Maybe a howl would be, too, but Law isn't quite that far down the monster rabbit hole yet. (It won't be long, though.) Instead, he answers back with gasps and groans, hanging on tight as they tip backwards and then trying, clumsily, to support at least some of his weight so that he isn't completely collapsed on top of him. At some point, he's not sure when, he realizes they're breathing in sync, shoulders rising and falling, lips parted. He's never really stared into someone else's eyes and done that before, or if he ever has, it was meditative, a breathing exercise during one of his classes or training or something like that. Not like this. It might be the most intimate thing he's experienced since they got here, which is impressive, you know... considering. But that's just how he feels.

Shifting on one elbow, Law's palm fits itself against the side of Gladio's face, cupping his jaw, his thumb grazing his cheek. He's trembling, too—no, shaking is a better word for it. Shaking, and as the endorphins keep sailing higher and higher, he feels a little lightheaded, too. No mental wherewithal to process anything but sparking bolts of pleasure, sweat-damp skin on skin and heat. God, it's so warm. How are blankets ever supposed to get the job done when there's body heat like this to enjoy instead?

All it takes is a tip of his chin to catch Gladio's lips in an open-mouthed kiss, one he does without caring about the rivulets of sweat snaking down his face or how they're still breathing too hard for a proper kiss. It isn't supposed to be a proper kiss. It's just... a feeling. Talking with his body some more, even if he's not really cognizant of what he's really trying to say with it. It just feels right. And when he pulls back to catch his breath and still can't think of what to say? He just does it again a second time. It's a couple minutes before he even bothers to try speaking. ]

He doesn't deserve you. You really are incredible.

[ The first part, Gladio never needs to know he said it. But the second part, he enunciates the last word again for him, syllable by gravelly syllable. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ He may try to spare Gladio from taking the bulk of his weight but as soon as he feels Law shifting away to do so, his arm cinches tight around his back and pulls him flush. Nuh-uh. There's no chance in hell that he's going to slip away that easily and he makes that particular intention known by letting his grip loosen little by little with each breath until Gladio snakes his hand up his spine. Once he reaches the back of his neck he squeezes it in a silent plea to stay. Not that he thinks Law intends to go anywhere, just... to stay where he is. Just like he is.

But he sure as hell isn't saying no to the way Law moves to cradle Gladio's face. The effect is immediate — Law's thumb brushes over his cheek and the scar running through it, and the Shield-turned-Behemoth presses further into his touch like some sort of needy, touch-starved animal desperate for the smallest shred of affection. It's not even like he's lacking it in the long run, it's more... Six, it's complicated. Did his father ever have moments like this with his mother? He knows his parents were affectionate towards one another, but he doesn't... He doesn't know if Clarus struggled. He doesn't know if it's a Shield thing or strictly a Gladio-Thing. Still, it's not outright stopping him from seeking it out.

He doesn't have it in him to dive head-first into the next kiss Law plants on him. Law takes the lead on that those ones and for once Gladio is more than content to go along with it, fingers squeezing just above his nape after the second. And the third. Gladio even starts to tilt his chin up for a forth but as he does Law starts to speak, making him pause to try and decipher it. Safe to say that first part is entirely lost on him outside of the "you", and the second half... He still doesn't get it but the feeling is there which is really the most important part and with how slowly Law says it? By gods does Gladio try. ]</sub>

Inedible.

_{[ Gladio utters it so confidently with that stupid ass grin of his. Remember kids, the keyword was: try. ]}

Did I say it right?

[counterattack]

[ Sensitive and spent, Law doesn't resist when Gladio pulls him in. It's all he can do not to utterly collapse onto him, but pressing as close as he can get, soaking in the warmth and the closeness, his tail fanned out to the side, touching from chest to hip? Yeah, that he can get behind. Or in front of. On top of. Whichever.

It hardly feels like it makes sense to laugh after something like this (although frankly he isn't sure why he thinks that—maybe just because it's supposed to be a big deal, because the afterglow is intense and almost as heated as the sex had been, just in a different sort of way), but he can't help it when Gladio grins at him like that or when he butchers that word the best possible way he could've. Law's nose wrinkles as he grins back, the kind of smile that stretches across his whole face, and even if his shoulders only slightly shake with a not-quite-there sound, the amusement's still pretty clear. Who the hell cares about decorum when they can just be themselves, anyway? ]

Yeah, I dunno about that one.

[ Haha get it because........... put that on the mental checklist for next time. He... did say there would be a next time, already, right? So it's not weird of him to assume? God, he's way too out of it for any kind of worrying and fussing like that right now. His fingers slide down to tweak Gladio's chin, knuckles brushing against his beard. ]

In-CRED-ible. Amazing. Stupendous. Fantastic. A knockout. Next-level. Ten outta ten, no notes. That all means really good.

[ The overused good is starting to wear out its welcome, but it can have one last outing, he guesses. ]