[Gepard looks a little bit ridiculous, crouched over there in the shadows like he's some creeping beast waiting for its prey. And, sure, there are times when Sampo might not mind playing the unwary victim to Gepard's feral, ravenous monster-- to be ravished and devoured by an insatiable beast-- but the effect is dulled a bit by the fact that Gepard's still wearing that starched and impeccable captain's uniform. He still looks more like a knight in shining armor than he does a predator.]
[Sampo preens a little at the compliments-- it is a nice color on him-- and adjusts the way his lapel lays against his chest, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle. How kind of you to notice that he's handsome, Gepard.]
Aren't I handsome all of the time? But I'll take the compliment at face value, Captain. [He did sure bumble his way through it, though. Thankfully for Gepard, Sampo finds his fumbling endearing. It didn't look like he had so much trouble when he was talking to those ladies on the dance floor, but here he is, tripping over his words.] It wasn't easy getting this fabric! Belobog doesn't seem to care much for colors other than white and blue. I had to have it specially imported, and get all the tailoring done before tonight.
[Never let it be said that Sampo Koski doesn't put effort in where it's due. He ambles a little closer to where Gepard is crouching, looking around the corner at him.]
You know, if you stay like that, you'll crease your trousers. You'll look messy for your next dance partner.
[...he does feel rather silly crouching and waiting like he's some predator ready for his prey when he's just right here and he's calling out to Sampo who's right there, and Sampo's ambling over from there to here and just is looking right at him, and-
He sighs. He straightens again. Sampo has a point. He's ridiculous and looks ridiculous and-]
That would be you, Sampo. [Who else would he dance with? Nevertheless, Gepard brushes off his pants.] And I thought the point of all of this was for you to make me a mess, one way or another. [Grump, grump, he's not happy to see Sampo, don't get the wrong idea.] I can't believe you made me waltz with all of those women. You know, if you hadn't shown up when you did, I would've left the estate. I was going to.
That doesn’t sound much like how you ask somebody to dance.
[Not that he really thinks that Gepard wants to dance with him. Not like that, anyway, gentlemanly waltzes in big ballrooms in front of all the other rich folks. He’s here for a different kind of dance, one that they’re going to do with far less clothes on, and that’s fine. Sampo knows what he’s here for.]
[To make a mess. To satisfy that part of Gepard that wants, until he decides that he doesn’t want it anymore. That’s how things work in the adult world, after all.]
I didn’t make you do anything! You could have told them no. [It would have made him look rude, but technically he could have refused anyone he liked. He’s a free man.] Ah, but you looked so gallant out there with all the pretty ladies. If I hadn’t had the band start playing, I would have deprived everyone of the sight.
It’s rude of me not to pay you a compliment, isn’t it? Since you gave me one. [He reaches out and adjusts the pocket square in Gepard’s breast pocket.] You fill out a dress uniform very well, Captain.
[Sampo claims that he didn't make him do anything, and Gepard makes a face in response. Quick. Sour. Contemplating the merits of trying to kick Sampo at this range, sure, it's not like Sampo currently deserves it, but also, does he deserve it in general? Quite possibly. He can make up some excuse about suspecting that Sampo pickpocketed some guests, which he definitely did; his medal's gone, that's reason to suspect him.
All of this lasts up until the point in which Sampo reaches out and adjusts the pocket square in his breast pocket, and he can't help but lean into that touch, a little, hating himself for doing so. More specifically, about the fact he couldn't help it.]
You're just saying that. [It's a mutter, a little grumble, as he glances away, and then, glances back.]
Do you want to stop my my room, or are we heading straight to the balcony? I have- [On second thought. On second thought maybe Sampo doesn't need to know about the lube.] Well, I'm sure that won't be necessary. I'm sure you're prepared. You brought a suit, after all.
[Gepard isn’t the only guy here with lube in his pocket. Other things, too, but also lube. There’s the possibility that he might get to be on the other end of their usual arrangement, after all, and he wasn’t going to risk having it called off because no one remembered the lubricant.]
[And he’s absolutely not going in dry for Gepard’s first time. He might want to beat up that fine ass a little, but not like that.]
Why don’t we get this show on the road? [He loops an arm through Gepard’s. What a tame beast you are, Captain Landau.] I don’t want to waste time, now that I have you all to myself!
[No sharing him with pretty ladies, at least not for a while. Maybe that’s an idea for next time— get dolled up as Brughel and see how many turns around the dance floor he can get out of Gepard before he recognizes who he’s dancing with. Maybe he’d even keep dancing after he finds out, just to have a reason to avoid the others.]
[He tests Sampo's grip on him, but, finding it sufficiently firm, decides to leave things be for now. They can walk, arm in arm. For now.]
You seemed content enough to waste time earlier. [He's not disgruntled! He's fine! Gepard also starts moving forward, because he really doesn't want to be caught down here with Sampo, professional disgrace, a thief and scoundrel, and someone who stands out in pink.]
I half-expected that you'd have me dancing with all of the women in there, just to prove some sort of point. [He's not angry, no, not at all.] Should I be wondering if you're working for my father, Sampo?
[Sampo was certainly entertained by it, so he considers it a very good use of everyone's time. And those ladies were probably entertained as well, though Sampo cares far less about their amusement than his own. The only person here who wasn't amused is probably Gepard himself, but, well... isn't this a matter of greatest good?]
What, and try to get you married off to some boring woman? I don't think you're in much danger of that, regardless of what I do. You seem as interested in marrying any of them as you do a Fragmentum monster.
[Unless his father figures out a way to finally blackmail Gepard into settling down, Sampo doesn't think he has that much to fear about their little situationship coming to an end.]
But you seem like a decent dancer! I'd have taken a spin with you myself, but that wouldn't have gone over well, would it?
[He'd have been recognized very quickly, and then he'd have half the Silvermane guard after him and he'd never get the chance to play with Gepard. Alas, his own reputation ruins some of his fun.]
[He makes a face at Sampo, who, frankly speaking, deserves it. It's the sort of rare irritation that the Silvermane Guard barely see, the public hardly ever sees, and his sisters sometimes see - he's not a paragon of the Preservation, he's not a captain, not someone who defies life. He's but a man, and a very kind of annoyed man at that. Not irate, not angry, just fucking irritated and consistently so. Less intensity of anger, and more intensity of how long he's going to be grumpy about this.
Because, ultimately, it's not like Sampo hurt him. It's just-]
I would've wanted to dance with you.
[Grump. Gepard picks up the pace a little, and if Sampo pulls away then that's his problem, otherwise the goal is this: get Sampo somewhere marginally more quiet, shove him against the wall, make out with him. Work off the constant grump through more productive ways. That sort of thing. Because he's a physical person, and understands touch better than feelings, sometimes.]
[What a thing for Gepard to say-- that he would've liked to dance with him. The good Captain's sentimental streak rearing its pretty little head again. But Sampo doesn't get much of a chance to say anything in response to that, because Gepard pulls him along, tugging him like he's a child that won't keep up, then pushes him against a wall to kiss him.]
[Well, Sampo can understand that well enough. And he's all right with Gepard getting him up against a wall, with his eager mouth and roaming hands. It'll probably wrinkle his jacket, which is a little bit of an annoyance-- this is a nice suit, thank you very much-- but he can iron out a few wrinkles. Ten minutes of necking with Gepard is priceless.]
Hey. [His hands are cupping Gepard's face, because it's really just too pretty not to touch.] Don't forget about that balcony that you promised me. We deserve a view!
[A pretty view of Belobog for someone to get railed to. Who is still up for debate, it depends on whether Gepard will find that medal of his.]
[Kissing Sampo is...clarifying. It's like the cool air of Belobog when it hits just right after a long day at work. Sharp and crisp. Clear. It reminds Gepard of what he did all of this for.
Sampo's hands are cupping his face and Gepard blushes. He likes it. He doesn't understand it, why he likes it, why Sampo seems to like it, it's a gesture that makes him freeze like he's a rabbit numbed by a fox's riddle. (Not that Gepard knows what a rabbit or a fox is, not exactly.) And he's reminded of the balcony-]
You're right. [He'd tilt his head forward so his forehead is buried against Sampo's shoulders, but he's being held. How can he move?]
Besides, some staff still do come this way. I shouldn't have stopped.
[But, clarity. And so Gepard-
Takes a step away from Sampo's hands, half-turns to lead him onward, pauses, and offers his hand again. They can walk hand in hand, and find the balcony, and Gepard can figure out the logistics of shoving a few fingers up his ass and Sampo can watch, and none of this will be embarrassing for him at all. Or not. Or- he shouldn't overthink this.]
[Don't overthink it, Gepard. Just think about Sampo's hand in yours, and the route you have to take through the dim halls of the Landau estate to bring your secret lover to your hidden balcony. And once they're on that balcony-- well! They'll figure it out, right? One way or another, everything will be fine. Better than fine.]
I'm sure most of the staff are busy at the party. [The current master of the house is a very particular man, after all, and his wife is just as demanding. The staff will have their hands full just making sure that everything goes off without a hitch, and hopefully everyone will be too busy to notice Gepard's absence.]
There's still the matter of our game to resolve, too! Can't forget that.
[That's ultimately what will determine who wins, and who gets their naughty way. Whether it'll be Gepard offering up his ass to whatever Sampo wants to do with it, or Sampo submitting himself to the good Captain's desires. A fun time either way, regardless of who's in charge for the evening. And certainly a better time than what Gepard would've had on that dance floor, pretending to enjoy spending time with his father's choice of eligible bachelorettes.]
[...he'd been hoping that Sampo would forget about their game, because then he could indulge in his curiosity without having to acknowledge a few things about himself, like how much trust he's putting into Sampo's hands and what that means, or the fact that the further away they get from the party the more he feels...
He feels lighter. The world feels lighter. They're together and the world feels just a bit lighter.]
Haven't you won already? [Gepard grumbles that out instead as they walk, hand in hand, to the secret balcony.] I suppose if I pin you down and search you I can get my medal back, assuming you have it with you, but that feels like cheating at this point.
[And in case Sampo doesn't get it, Gepard tries (and fails) to glare at him. It's more fond exasperation. He doesn't know. Don't tell him.] We're holding hands. It'll be difficult for you to get away from me now.
You say it like it would be a hardship! It would’ve been a fun way for you to get my suit off.
[But here they are, on Gepard’s special balcony. The heaters warm the air up enough that it’s fairly comfortable to stand outside, even without a coat. He was right about the view— it is excellent, looking down at the city with all the twinkling lights of this planet’s last bastion laid out before them in the snowy dark. They’re far enough from the party that no one could have reasonably spotted them, but some of the staff must have opened the windows of the ballroom to let cool air in, because the sound of the band playing a waltz is still distantly audible.]
[They’re still holding hands. Sampo turns and steps into Gepard’s personal space, puts a hand on his shoulder and moves seamlessly into a waltzing stance, taking the following position. Surely a man like Gepard would be more comfortable with the lead.]
Well, if you don’t want to do that, you could get a dance. [The band has started up a new song, something pretty that Sampo’s pretty sure he’s heard before.] Just until the song ends.
[Sampo turns and steps into his personal space. The music strikes up, and without thinking about it, like it's the most natural thing in the world, like he was born for it, Gepard starts dancing. Waltzing. Sweeping Sampo up into a dance- he's not that good at dancing, it feels like he's marching like he's a toy soldier instead of dancing, this doesn't feel like he's doing a good job of sweeping Sampo off of his feet, but it's nice. Quiet. It's nice not feeling like he has to perform for anyone.]
Thank you for indulging me.
[He says this very quietly, as if they're on the dance floor and have to worry about some other couple overhearing it, like it's a secret pressed between pages and hidden in a book, like it's a soap bubble that will pop the second it rises in the air. Like if he speaks it too loud, some servants will find them, he'll have to arrest Sampo - or Sampo will throw down some smoke bombs and vanish - and he'll have to trot back down and do his duty.
[Gepard is, as expected, a very adequate dancer. A little stiff, maybe, but exactly on-beat and so predictable in his movements that he’s easy to follow. Sampo feels very confident about the safety of his toes, even if he wouldn’t be as confident in their likelihood of winning any dance competitions.]
[But that’s fine. It’s fine. Gepard’s face is quietly pleased as though this is the nicest thing that’s happened to him all week, and they’re waltzing to the distant sound of the band underneath the stars and fluctuating auroras. Those ladies down in the ballroom would have eaten their own expensive silk skirts to be in Sampo’s position right now, with Gepard’s hand in his, dancing under starlight.]
You are my favorite. And not half bad at a waltz.
[The music eventually fades, though, and the dance ends, as all good things must. But it does give Sampo an excellent opportunity to kiss Gepard, which he very much takes advantage of. If you’re presented with the opportunity to kiss your situationship on a romantic balcony in starlight, you’re a fool if you don’t take it.]
[Sampo calls him his favorite, and it sends a little thrill down Gepard's spine. It shouldn't. But it does. Because Sampo could've had the entire universe, but he picked Belobog? He picked him? It's probably a line. It's probably a lie. But he believes in it- which is terrible, but they're waltzing under the starlight and everything feels perfect.
The music fades. And it's tempting to pave the path back to something resembling normalcy - a comment about the game, about how they might as well get on with it, a comment about Sampo's criminal ways - but he's kissed and Gepard promptly melts in Sampo's arms. He leans into the kiss, a little desperately (with a whimper, muffled), hands twisting in the fabric of Sampo's jacket before one hand sides into Sampo's hair. It feels like a dream. He danced under the starlight with a man who makes him feel special, everything's absurdly romantic, if he woke up in the snow Gepard wouldn't be entirely surprised. Upset, but not surprised.
But he breaks the kiss for air. The moment holds. He's a little bit surprised and hopes Sampo can't tell.]
How do you want to... [Um.] ...conclude our wager?
[Ah, Gepard really is a good kisser. Maybe he's learned since he started having Sampo as his dirty little secret-- practice does make perfect, after all-- maybe it's how earnest and intense he is about the whole thing. Really giving it his all, every single time.]
[Sometimes, he gets this look in his eyes like he's stunned every time he pulls back and finds that Sampo is still there.]
Right, right. Well, I figured I'd make good on all my promises. [Sampo is all easy smiles to Gepard's sheepish verbal sidestepping.] I did say that I would bend you over and show you a good time. I'm prepared to deliver!
[He slips his hands down from Gepard's lovely shoulders, slides them instead down to the buttons of his impeccable uniform's jacket and starts pushing them through their buttonholes. Hard to do much delivering on any promises if Gepard's covered with so much starched fabric.]
[Sampo is calm and confident in a way Gepard never is, at least, not when it comes to all things personal. (All things Belobog is, of course, a completely different story.) He says he'll make good on his promises. He says he'll bend him over- and Gepard blushes as Sampo puts it like that. Of all the ways he could've said it, he had to say it like that: no embellishment, no softening the blow, just sex.]
Did you really have to say it like that? [Gepard keeps his hands on Sampo's waist, just...politely rubbing his thumbs back and forth, hoping Sampo can't pick up on his...not quite anxiety, not quite nervousness, not quite neither of those, whatever it is that he's feeling. Anticipation? Maybe that.] Bend me over and show me a good time. [He half-imitates Sampo's tone as he says that, half-doesn't. An attempt was made, kind of.]
[Sampo laughs at Gepard's imitation of his cadence. He's got a particular way of speaking-- it's deliberate, he adopted it to fit the person he wanted to be-- and it's funny to hear Gepard's voice try to match it.]
No, but I do want to be clear about what you're getting into. [Another button on that jacket down, a little more of Gepard's uniform revealed. Pristine white, as immaculate as his honor.] You've made me feel good that way plenty of times, it's about time that I returned the favor! Besides, don't you want to know what it's like on the other side?
[With all the buttons undone on the jacket, Sampo can smooth his hands up over Gepard's shoulders, pushing it off and sliding it down his arms. It means that Gepard will have to stop rubbing at his waist like his own personal worry-stone, but that's a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal of getting him out of his clothes. And, Aeons, Sampo will never get tired of seeing the strapping silhouette that he cuts. Belobog really makes its men a certain way, and Sampo's gotten a taste for it.]
[He leans in and presses a kiss to Gepard's lovely jawline, then another a little higher up, a soft trail heading towards his ear. His breath is soft and warm against his ear when he whispers into it:]
Aren't you a little curious? [He really probably doesn't have to try so hard with the seduction, with pressing himself up against Gepard's chest, touching his neck, those broad shoulders, carefully undoing the knotted silk tie at his throat. (That deep Landau blue, of course. If only it was so easy to rid Gepard of all of the trappings of that family name.)] You've made me scream so many times, don't you want to know what it feels like?
[The problem with being this close to Sampo is that it's actually quite hard to not look at him. Gepard tries, of course, he tries to focus on that wall just behind Sampo's shoulder- but then a finger grazes a button, pressing into his body, and his attention shifts right back to Sampo, his gaze slips back to him, he looks at him, he can't look anywhere else. He feels like-
Feelings aren't, never were his strong suit. They were a luxury for men who weren't born with the name Landau and a duty to chase what they want, to catch it, to bring it down and make it their own. And now here he is, torn.
Sampo removes his jacket. Gepard lets him, even if it means letting go of his waist - he does, long enough to remove that jacket. Then his hands go back to where they were, and then...further? Maybe? Because if Sampo's right there, up against his chest, kissing his chin (he gasps), and his cheek (and he arches his head back, away, the better to let Sampo have access) it's easy enough to just...hold him.]
If.
[His voice wobbles, a little. (Why is it so difficult to stay composed when Sampo's in a mood.) Gepard licks his lips, tries again.]
If I wasn't curious, I'd have put more effort into winning, you know.
[Men named Landau have always chased down what they wanted and captured it, but Sampo's always been the one thing that Gepard has never been able to catch, isn't he?]
[Well, now that he's in Gepard's arms, that's kind of like catching him. But Gepard is very sweet when he's holding Sampo, his hands warm and gentle even through the fabric of Sampo's suit, so very accepting of every kiss that he presses to his face and throat. It's a far cry from what Landau men are supposed to be, all strength and unyielding will, supposed paragons of the Preservation.]
[Sampo drops this paragon of the Preservation's silk tie to the ground, then makes short work of the buttons holding up his starched collar. When they yield, there's even more pale skin for him to kiss; he lays a soft trail over an old scar that runs down the side of Gepard's neck, where some nasty thing must have cut him years ago.]
So you didn't even try? [It's not quite as fun if you throw the match, Gepard.] If you'd won anyway, would you have asked for it?
[His hands drop down to Gepard's vest, making short work of those buttons, too. He's very good at undoing buttons without looking, almost as though he's had practice. (He has, partly because of Gepard. It's why he's so good at removing guard uniforms now, too, from getting the good Captain out of his so many times.)]
I'll give it back when we're done. [Away with the vest, to join the tie on the ground. Sampo tugs Gepard's shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, keeps plowing through those buttons. If there wouldn't be a need to get Gepard back into all of this frippery at the end of their tryst, he might have been tempted to just pull the shirt apart and damn the buttons.] It's a nice medal, I like the ribbon. What was it for?
[What great act of heroism got Gepard Landau a medal with a green ribbon?]
I hadn't- [A kiss against an old scar. That's distracting, and his hands clench. He wants nothing more than to rip Sampo's clothes off of him, but, well, Sampo needs to leave. (And, not for the first time, Gepard wonders just how it is that Sampo Koski can run around with cut-outs and shirts which are more suggestions than they are anything covering.)]
I didn't intend on not trying. [His fingers- he forces them to still. This isn't his show, it's Sampo's show, and for once he's going to let him- maybe not for once but it's like a trust fall. Putting your life into someone's hands and letting them do what they will with it. It's that. It's not just about his ass and Sampo's dick, it's about more than that. Maybe.
His eyes close, because Sampo's just too close and he's got questions to answer. His vest is coming off. That's fine.]
It's just that- I realized I didn't mind. Once you had it. [Anyway!] I saved a platoon. Nothing special, but I remembered the medal when you needed something to steal.
[He gets the last button through and opens up Gepard's shirt, revealing all of that lovely skin and muscle. Aeons, Gepard looks good in any light and in anything, and perhaps best with nothing at all. But Sampo leaves the shirt on so that he has a little something to keep him warm, and also a little because there's something kind of hot about having sex with someone half-dressed. It's the best of both worlds-- Gepard in all of his fancy clothes, and also having access to his lovely chest and stomach. Sampo runs his hands down over the good Captain's collarbones, thumbs over those pretty pink nipples until they pebble under his touch.]
Nothing special, he says! Only you would save two dozen men and think it's nothing special.
[Typical Gepard Landau. He's ridiculous and Sampo is going to eat him out about it. To that end, he unbuckles Gepard's belt and tugs his trousers open, and, well, now that he's getting those down, maybe he'll suck him off about it first. It really depends on how hard that cock is when he gets it out. Spoiled for choice either way, really. Either he's getting his mouth on a glorious cock or a glorious ass, it's glorious no matter which one he goes with.]
I bet you have a dozen medals like that sitting in your drawers, gathering dust.
[He blushes, because he wants to protest. Gepard wants to say that, well, any Silvermane Guard would be honored to save someone else's life, and he's far from the only man who's saved the lives of others. He also knows that maybe those others don't exactly rescue two dozen men at a time, but there's some heroes who have done similar. He also does know that he does have a drawer with a lot of medals, gathering dust.
He's got mixed feelings about them.]
It's hardly a dozen...
[He shifts, in part because, well. Look at what he just admitted, and the second Gepard says it is the second that he knows he said something dumb. And in part because Sampo's undoing his trousers and pulling them down and is he hard? Somewhat. Hard not to be...enthusiastic about things when he let himself be cornered by Sampo like some small prey animal offering up his throat to the predator, and said predator (Sampo) was nibbling at it. So to speak. Being flaccid would be an insult.
Could he be harder? Probably. In part because it's cold. In part because, well- his hand brushes Sampo's hair and he can feel his cock twitch at the thought of giving up control and seeing where Sampo took things.]
[Hardly a dozen. Which means it is, probably, very close to a dozen pretty little medals for heroism and bravery that Gepard Landau has just tossed into a drawer like a few loose batteries. The man has done so many acts of valor that he doesn't have enough real estate on his quite sizeable chest to display all of it. Ridiculous!]
[If Sampo weren't already going to fuck him about it, he'd fuck him about it again. But he has something more important to pay attention to right now than Gepard Landau's modesty. His cock isn't raging hard at the moment, just sort of attractively plumped, and that's just fine for this stage of the game. He'd have had something else to tease Gepard about if he'd been hard enough to pound nails just from a little over-the-clothes action.]
It is! Ah, I should be honored to eat out such a valiant man. I'd call it doing my civic duty, but I'm going to enjoy it too much.
[He pushes Gepard back towards the railing of the balcony, until his back is up against it. Stay right there, valiant Captain, so that you have a nice spot of railing to lean over once he decides to bend you.]
Now... [He tugs Gepard's open trousers and undergarments the rest of the way down, kneeling as he goes. Isn't that a nice view, too? Almost as nice as the one they have of the city-- Sampo on his knees, looking appreciatively at Gepard's half-hard prick.] You just lean back and relax, yeah?
[Gepard's not hard yet, but he will be pretty quickly after Sampo takes him in his mouth, hands on the good Captain's hips to brace himself. It's lovely every time-- he is so very fond of Gepard's cock. His favorite prick on all of Jarilo-VI, attached to his favorite prick. And while he could certainly kneel here and suck Gepard off all night long-- or at least until his knees got too sore for it-- this is a slightly businesslike blowjob. A blowjob with purpose, and that purpose is to take Gepard from pleasantly plump to pounding-nails hard. A little fluffing, to get the old engine going.]
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[Sampo preens a little at the compliments-- it is a nice color on him-- and adjusts the way his lapel lays against his chest, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle. How kind of you to notice that he's handsome, Gepard.]
Aren't I handsome all of the time? But I'll take the compliment at face value, Captain. [He did sure bumble his way through it, though. Thankfully for Gepard, Sampo finds his fumbling endearing. It didn't look like he had so much trouble when he was talking to those ladies on the dance floor, but here he is, tripping over his words.] It wasn't easy getting this fabric! Belobog doesn't seem to care much for colors other than white and blue. I had to have it specially imported, and get all the tailoring done before tonight.
[Never let it be said that Sampo Koski doesn't put effort in where it's due. He ambles a little closer to where Gepard is crouching, looking around the corner at him.]
You know, if you stay like that, you'll crease your trousers. You'll look messy for your next dance partner.
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He sighs. He straightens again. Sampo has a point. He's ridiculous and looks ridiculous and-]
That would be you, Sampo. [Who else would he dance with? Nevertheless, Gepard brushes off his pants.] And I thought the point of all of this was for you to make me a mess, one way or another. [Grump, grump, he's not happy to see Sampo, don't get the wrong idea.] I can't believe you made me waltz with all of those women. You know, if you hadn't shown up when you did, I would've left the estate. I was going to.
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[Not that he really thinks that Gepard wants to dance with him. Not like that, anyway, gentlemanly waltzes in big ballrooms in front of all the other rich folks. He’s here for a different kind of dance, one that they’re going to do with far less clothes on, and that’s fine. Sampo knows what he’s here for.]
[To make a mess. To satisfy that part of Gepard that wants, until he decides that he doesn’t want it anymore. That’s how things work in the adult world, after all.]
I didn’t make you do anything! You could have told them no. [It would have made him look rude, but technically he could have refused anyone he liked. He’s a free man.] Ah, but you looked so gallant out there with all the pretty ladies. If I hadn’t had the band start playing, I would have deprived everyone of the sight.
It’s rude of me not to pay you a compliment, isn’t it? Since you gave me one. [He reaches out and adjusts the pocket square in Gepard’s breast pocket.] You fill out a dress uniform very well, Captain.
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All of this lasts up until the point in which Sampo reaches out and adjusts the pocket square in his breast pocket, and he can't help but lean into that touch, a little, hating himself for doing so. More specifically, about the fact he couldn't help it.]
You're just saying that. [It's a mutter, a little grumble, as he glances away, and then, glances back.]
Do you want to stop my my room, or are we heading straight to the balcony? I have- [On second thought. On second thought maybe Sampo doesn't need to know about the lube.] Well, I'm sure that won't be necessary. I'm sure you're prepared. You brought a suit, after all.
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[Gepard isn’t the only guy here with lube in his pocket. Other things, too, but also lube. There’s the possibility that he might get to be on the other end of their usual arrangement, after all, and he wasn’t going to risk having it called off because no one remembered the lubricant.]
[And he’s absolutely not going in dry for Gepard’s first time. He might want to beat up that fine ass a little, but not like that.]
Why don’t we get this show on the road? [He loops an arm through Gepard’s. What a tame beast you are, Captain Landau.] I don’t want to waste time, now that I have you all to myself!
[No sharing him with pretty ladies, at least not for a while. Maybe that’s an idea for next time— get dolled up as Brughel and see how many turns around the dance floor he can get out of Gepard before he recognizes who he’s dancing with. Maybe he’d even keep dancing after he finds out, just to have a reason to avoid the others.]
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You seemed content enough to waste time earlier. [He's not disgruntled! He's fine! Gepard also starts moving forward, because he really doesn't want to be caught down here with Sampo, professional disgrace, a thief and scoundrel, and someone who stands out in pink.]
I half-expected that you'd have me dancing with all of the women in there, just to prove some sort of point. [He's not angry, no, not at all.] Should I be wondering if you're working for my father, Sampo?
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[Sampo was certainly entertained by it, so he considers it a very good use of everyone's time. And those ladies were probably entertained as well, though Sampo cares far less about their amusement than his own. The only person here who wasn't amused is probably Gepard himself, but, well... isn't this a matter of greatest good?]
What, and try to get you married off to some boring woman? I don't think you're in much danger of that, regardless of what I do. You seem as interested in marrying any of them as you do a Fragmentum monster.
[Unless his father figures out a way to finally blackmail Gepard into settling down, Sampo doesn't think he has that much to fear about their little situationship coming to an end.]
But you seem like a decent dancer! I'd have taken a spin with you myself, but that wouldn't have gone over well, would it?
[He'd have been recognized very quickly, and then he'd have half the Silvermane guard after him and he'd never get the chance to play with Gepard. Alas, his own reputation ruins some of his fun.]
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Because, ultimately, it's not like Sampo hurt him. It's just-]
I would've wanted to dance with you.
[Grump. Gepard picks up the pace a little, and if Sampo pulls away then that's his problem, otherwise the goal is this: get Sampo somewhere marginally more quiet, shove him against the wall, make out with him. Work off the constant grump through more productive ways. That sort of thing. Because he's a physical person, and understands touch better than feelings, sometimes.]
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[Well, Sampo can understand that well enough. And he's all right with Gepard getting him up against a wall, with his eager mouth and roaming hands. It'll probably wrinkle his jacket, which is a little bit of an annoyance-- this is a nice suit, thank you very much-- but he can iron out a few wrinkles. Ten minutes of necking with Gepard is priceless.]
Hey. [His hands are cupping Gepard's face, because it's really just too pretty not to touch.] Don't forget about that balcony that you promised me. We deserve a view!
[A pretty view of Belobog for someone to get railed to. Who is still up for debate, it depends on whether Gepard will find that medal of his.]
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Sampo's hands are cupping his face and Gepard blushes. He likes it. He doesn't understand it, why he likes it, why Sampo seems to like it, it's a gesture that makes him freeze like he's a rabbit numbed by a fox's riddle. (Not that Gepard knows what a rabbit or a fox is, not exactly.) And he's reminded of the balcony-]
You're right. [He'd tilt his head forward so his forehead is buried against Sampo's shoulders, but he's being held. How can he move?]
Besides, some staff still do come this way. I shouldn't have stopped.
[But, clarity. And so Gepard-
Takes a step away from Sampo's hands, half-turns to lead him onward, pauses, and offers his hand again. They can walk hand in hand, and find the balcony, and Gepard can figure out the logistics of shoving a few fingers up his ass and Sampo can watch, and none of this will be embarrassing for him at all. Or not. Or- he shouldn't overthink this.]
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I'm sure most of the staff are busy at the party. [The current master of the house is a very particular man, after all, and his wife is just as demanding. The staff will have their hands full just making sure that everything goes off without a hitch, and hopefully everyone will be too busy to notice Gepard's absence.]
There's still the matter of our game to resolve, too! Can't forget that.
[That's ultimately what will determine who wins, and who gets their naughty way. Whether it'll be Gepard offering up his ass to whatever Sampo wants to do with it, or Sampo submitting himself to the good Captain's desires. A fun time either way, regardless of who's in charge for the evening. And certainly a better time than what Gepard would've had on that dance floor, pretending to enjoy spending time with his father's choice of eligible bachelorettes.]
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He feels lighter. The world feels lighter. They're together and the world feels just a bit lighter.]
Haven't you won already? [Gepard grumbles that out instead as they walk, hand in hand, to the secret balcony.] I suppose if I pin you down and search you I can get my medal back, assuming you have it with you, but that feels like cheating at this point.
[And in case Sampo doesn't get it, Gepard tries (and fails) to glare at him. It's more fond exasperation. He doesn't know. Don't tell him.] We're holding hands. It'll be difficult for you to get away from me now.
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[But here they are, on Gepard’s special balcony. The heaters warm the air up enough that it’s fairly comfortable to stand outside, even without a coat. He was right about the view— it is excellent, looking down at the city with all the twinkling lights of this planet’s last bastion laid out before them in the snowy dark. They’re far enough from the party that no one could have reasonably spotted them, but some of the staff must have opened the windows of the ballroom to let cool air in, because the sound of the band playing a waltz is still distantly audible.]
[They’re still holding hands. Sampo turns and steps into Gepard’s personal space, puts a hand on his shoulder and moves seamlessly into a waltzing stance, taking the following position. Surely a man like Gepard would be more comfortable with the lead.]
Well, if you don’t want to do that, you could get a dance. [The band has started up a new song, something pretty that Sampo’s pretty sure he’s heard before.] Just until the song ends.
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Thank you for indulging me.
[He says this very quietly, as if they're on the dance floor and have to worry about some other couple overhearing it, like it's a secret pressed between pages and hidden in a book, like it's a soap bubble that will pop the second it rises in the air. Like if he speaks it too loud, some servants will find them, he'll have to arrest Sampo - or Sampo will throw down some smoke bombs and vanish - and he'll have to trot back down and do his duty.
But it's a nice night. It feels soft. Quiet.]
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[But that’s fine. It’s fine. Gepard’s face is quietly pleased as though this is the nicest thing that’s happened to him all week, and they’re waltzing to the distant sound of the band underneath the stars and fluctuating auroras. Those ladies down in the ballroom would have eaten their own expensive silk skirts to be in Sampo’s position right now, with Gepard’s hand in his, dancing under starlight.]
You are my favorite. And not half bad at a waltz.
[The music eventually fades, though, and the dance ends, as all good things must. But it does give Sampo an excellent opportunity to kiss Gepard, which he very much takes advantage of. If you’re presented with the opportunity to kiss your situationship on a romantic balcony in starlight, you’re a fool if you don’t take it.]
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The music fades. And it's tempting to pave the path back to something resembling normalcy - a comment about the game, about how they might as well get on with it, a comment about Sampo's criminal ways - but he's kissed and Gepard promptly melts in Sampo's arms. He leans into the kiss, a little desperately (with a whimper, muffled), hands twisting in the fabric of Sampo's jacket before one hand sides into Sampo's hair. It feels like a dream. He danced under the starlight with a man who makes him feel special, everything's absurdly romantic, if he woke up in the snow Gepard wouldn't be entirely surprised. Upset, but not surprised.
But he breaks the kiss for air. The moment holds. He's a little bit surprised and hopes Sampo can't tell.]
How do you want to... [Um.] ...conclude our wager?
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[Sometimes, he gets this look in his eyes like he's stunned every time he pulls back and finds that Sampo is still there.]
Right, right. Well, I figured I'd make good on all my promises. [Sampo is all easy smiles to Gepard's sheepish verbal sidestepping.] I did say that I would bend you over and show you a good time. I'm prepared to deliver!
[He slips his hands down from Gepard's lovely shoulders, slides them instead down to the buttons of his impeccable uniform's jacket and starts pushing them through their buttonholes. Hard to do much delivering on any promises if Gepard's covered with so much starched fabric.]
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Did you really have to say it like that? [Gepard keeps his hands on Sampo's waist, just...politely rubbing his thumbs back and forth, hoping Sampo can't pick up on his...not quite anxiety, not quite nervousness, not quite neither of those, whatever it is that he's feeling. Anticipation? Maybe that.] Bend me over and show me a good time. [He half-imitates Sampo's tone as he says that, half-doesn't. An attempt was made, kind of.]
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No, but I do want to be clear about what you're getting into. [Another button on that jacket down, a little more of Gepard's uniform revealed. Pristine white, as immaculate as his honor.] You've made me feel good that way plenty of times, it's about time that I returned the favor! Besides, don't you want to know what it's like on the other side?
[With all the buttons undone on the jacket, Sampo can smooth his hands up over Gepard's shoulders, pushing it off and sliding it down his arms. It means that Gepard will have to stop rubbing at his waist like his own personal worry-stone, but that's a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal of getting him out of his clothes. And, Aeons, Sampo will never get tired of seeing the strapping silhouette that he cuts. Belobog really makes its men a certain way, and Sampo's gotten a taste for it.]
[He leans in and presses a kiss to Gepard's lovely jawline, then another a little higher up, a soft trail heading towards his ear. His breath is soft and warm against his ear when he whispers into it:]
Aren't you a little curious? [He really probably doesn't have to try so hard with the seduction, with pressing himself up against Gepard's chest, touching his neck, those broad shoulders, carefully undoing the knotted silk tie at his throat. (That deep Landau blue, of course. If only it was so easy to rid Gepard of all of the trappings of that family name.)] You've made me scream so many times, don't you want to know what it feels like?
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Feelings aren't, never were his strong suit. They were a luxury for men who weren't born with the name Landau and a duty to chase what they want, to catch it, to bring it down and make it their own. And now here he is, torn.
Sampo removes his jacket. Gepard lets him, even if it means letting go of his waist - he does, long enough to remove that jacket. Then his hands go back to where they were, and then...further? Maybe? Because if Sampo's right there, up against his chest, kissing his chin (he gasps), and his cheek (and he arches his head back, away, the better to let Sampo have access) it's easy enough to just...hold him.]
If.
[His voice wobbles, a little. (Why is it so difficult to stay composed when Sampo's in a mood.) Gepard licks his lips, tries again.]
If I wasn't curious, I'd have put more effort into winning, you know.
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[Well, now that he's in Gepard's arms, that's kind of like catching him. But Gepard is very sweet when he's holding Sampo, his hands warm and gentle even through the fabric of Sampo's suit, so very accepting of every kiss that he presses to his face and throat. It's a far cry from what Landau men are supposed to be, all strength and unyielding will, supposed paragons of the Preservation.]
[Sampo drops this paragon of the Preservation's silk tie to the ground, then makes short work of the buttons holding up his starched collar. When they yield, there's even more pale skin for him to kiss; he lays a soft trail over an old scar that runs down the side of Gepard's neck, where some nasty thing must have cut him years ago.]
So you didn't even try? [It's not quite as fun if you throw the match, Gepard.] If you'd won anyway, would you have asked for it?
[His hands drop down to Gepard's vest, making short work of those buttons, too. He's very good at undoing buttons without looking, almost as though he's had practice. (He has, partly because of Gepard. It's why he's so good at removing guard uniforms now, too, from getting the good Captain out of his so many times.)]
I'll give it back when we're done. [Away with the vest, to join the tie on the ground. Sampo tugs Gepard's shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, keeps plowing through those buttons. If there wouldn't be a need to get Gepard back into all of this frippery at the end of their tryst, he might have been tempted to just pull the shirt apart and damn the buttons.] It's a nice medal, I like the ribbon. What was it for?
[What great act of heroism got Gepard Landau a medal with a green ribbon?]
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I didn't intend on not trying. [His fingers- he forces them to still. This isn't his show, it's Sampo's show, and for once he's going to let him- maybe not for once but it's like a trust fall. Putting your life into someone's hands and letting them do what they will with it. It's that. It's not just about his ass and Sampo's dick, it's about more than that. Maybe.
His eyes close, because Sampo's just too close and he's got questions to answer. His vest is coming off. That's fine.]
It's just that- I realized I didn't mind. Once you had it. [Anyway!] I saved a platoon. Nothing special, but I remembered the medal when you needed something to steal.
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Nothing special, he says! Only you would save two dozen men and think it's nothing special.
[Typical Gepard Landau. He's ridiculous and Sampo is going to eat him out about it. To that end, he unbuckles Gepard's belt and tugs his trousers open, and, well, now that he's getting those down, maybe he'll suck him off about it first. It really depends on how hard that cock is when he gets it out. Spoiled for choice either way, really. Either he's getting his mouth on a glorious cock or a glorious ass, it's glorious no matter which one he goes with.]
I bet you have a dozen medals like that sitting in your drawers, gathering dust.
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He's got mixed feelings about them.]
It's hardly a dozen...
[He shifts, in part because, well. Look at what he just admitted, and the second Gepard says it is the second that he knows he said something dumb. And in part because Sampo's undoing his trousers and pulling them down and is he hard? Somewhat. Hard not to be...enthusiastic about things when he let himself be cornered by Sampo like some small prey animal offering up his throat to the predator, and said predator (Sampo) was nibbling at it. So to speak. Being flaccid would be an insult.
Could he be harder? Probably. In part because it's cold. In part because, well- his hand brushes Sampo's hair and he can feel his cock twitch at the thought of giving up control and seeing where Sampo took things.]
I know that's besides the point.
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[If Sampo weren't already going to fuck him about it, he'd fuck him about it again. But he has something more important to pay attention to right now than Gepard Landau's modesty. His cock isn't raging hard at the moment, just sort of attractively plumped, and that's just fine for this stage of the game. He'd have had something else to tease Gepard about if he'd been hard enough to pound nails just from a little over-the-clothes action.]
It is! Ah, I should be honored to eat out such a valiant man. I'd call it doing my civic duty, but I'm going to enjoy it too much.
[He pushes Gepard back towards the railing of the balcony, until his back is up against it. Stay right there, valiant Captain, so that you have a nice spot of railing to lean over once he decides to bend you.]
Now... [He tugs Gepard's open trousers and undergarments the rest of the way down, kneeling as he goes. Isn't that a nice view, too? Almost as nice as the one they have of the city-- Sampo on his knees, looking appreciatively at Gepard's half-hard prick.] You just lean back and relax, yeah?
[Gepard's not hard yet, but he will be pretty quickly after Sampo takes him in his mouth, hands on the good Captain's hips to brace himself. It's lovely every time-- he is so very fond of Gepard's cock. His favorite prick on all of Jarilo-VI, attached to his favorite prick. And while he could certainly kneel here and suck Gepard off all night long-- or at least until his knees got too sore for it-- this is a slightly businesslike blowjob. A blowjob with purpose, and that purpose is to take Gepard from pleasantly plump to pounding-nails hard. A little fluffing, to get the old engine going.]
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