You’re a very good masseuse and pillow. I’d give you a stellar review!
[A+, excellent body pillow, would cuddle again. Would maybe spoon, if the opportunity arose, or even fork.]
[He closes his eyes. Gepard’s fingers haven’t stopped yet, and it’s really hard to resist the urge to just fall asleep on him. He’s warm and full and getting a totally platonic neck rub from a handsome man, who wouldn’t feel like taking a little nap in that situation?]
Are you trying to— [He interrupts himself with a yawn.] —put me to sleep? Because it’s working.
[And then his fingers...stop, they stop, just resting there, because Figaro raised a good point- kind of, that as much as he likes this, he also maybe shouldn't...indulge because...
Because of some reason or another. Because. Because it's a bad idea. Because it'll lead to more useless pining.]
[The pining would be less useless if he ever stopped being quiet about it, but Gepard wouldn't be Gepard if he didn't quietly torture himself with something that he desires but refuses to allow himself to have.]
[His fingers stop combing through Sampo's thick hair, and he makes a displeased little noise about it but otherwise doesn't move. He's really enjoying that scalp massage, it seems like a shame to stop it just because the good Captain hasn't figured out that he needs to take a few steps out of the closet yet.]
Do you want me out of your hair? [He tips his head a little to get a better look up at Gepard. From this angle, he's only marginally less handsome because no one looks good when you can see up their nostrils.] I'd have to come back soon to make lunch for you, anyway. So it's not really any easier for me to leave and come back.
[Besides, he has ideas for that leftover tenderloin from last night. Some crunchy bread, a few greens, some horseradish and an au jus to dip it in... he'll make a sandwich so good that Gepard'll be glad to give him neck rubs.]
[No, no, they're two men, zero feet apart because they're not gay. Anyway, Figaro asks if he wants him out of his hair, and Gepard shakes his head.]
No, I like having you here.
[It's embarrassing, but it's true, and as Gepard says that he nudges Figaro - asking without asking for him to move up, it'll be easier to rub his spine if he's a little ways up. Plus, any boners will be less awkward that way, probably.]
It's been... [Fuck it. He can admit it.] It's been fun. Which is strange given how all of this started and the fact I don't even know your name, and that's not even getting into how you eat people, but- nobody's perfect, I suppose.
[Sampo goes along with that nudge, because it's really in his best interest to do as the good Captain wants. Neck rubs and back rubs, he should bite handsome Captains more often if it'll get him this kind of treatment. Or maybe it's just this one Captain, and Sampo really hit the jackpot that night.]
[So he scoots up and yawns into Gepard's shoulder, muffling himself with it. It's a nice shoulder.]
Don't ruin the fun, I'm sure you can figure out my name if you try. Maybe I'll give you a hint, if you ask me nice enough. [Maybe. Who knows! Gepard's not the dullest knife in the drawer, and he's got some very sharp people working with him. Surely he can do it himself.] And I don't eat people, I drink blood. There's a difference! It's an important one.
[Cannibalism and vampirism aren't the same thing, thank you very much. One is much messier and more rude than the other.]
[Oh, but Figaro's obliging, which is good, makes it easier to use him as a giant blanket and/or body pillow for cuddling- which Gepard does. He sighs, getting comfortable, just fucking making himself at home- it is his home. But he's settling in.
Gepard's a man of routine and he can feel new patterns being etched onto his bones. He really should be more worried about this- less the cuddling of some nameless man with a fixation on the letter O, and more the fact that he decided that he really wants to snuggle with him after letting him drink his blood.
One hand is at the nape of Figaro's neck. The other, trying to rub his back.]
You drink blood. Blood comes from people, so I suppose you're technically right.
[Clothes are in the way, and without thinking about it, Gepard slides a hand under what little Figaro has in the way of a shirt (he's not really a shirt guy, really) to rub patterns in his skin. It's like gentling a cat. He's got the world's worst bloodthirsty cat atop him. It doesn't matter.]
You drink people, not eat them, but is that really that different? [This is what he's focusing on.]
[Is any of this supposed to deter Sampo from a good bite and cuddle? Gepard basically wants him as his own personal body pillow, and Sampo’s gone long enough without positive human contact that he’ll gladly be Gepard’s weighted blanket. The good Captain is warm and comfortable and his hands are lovely at his nape and back.]
[It’s really a shame. What a waste of a perfectly good man, Sampo would gladly give him some special services if he was only so inclined. But Gepard would have no interest in that kind of thing from him, so there’s no use in even offering.]
[And instead of focusing on touching him, Gepard is fixated on the people eating thing.]
It is! Eating somebody makes it sound like I’m tearing chunks off or something. What I’m doing is barely worse than a blood donation.
[He tips his head a little to give the good Captain some serious side-eye.]
Hey. Just let me take the win where I can get it, okay?
[He’s an obligate bloodsucker and it’s objectively awful, at least let him have his little semantic arguments.]
[Figaro's turning his head- Gepard grunts because that makes him less comfortable, what is this, what's going on, two heterosexual men zero feet apart because they're not gay, and one of them is wiggling a bit.
And now Gepard's moving to give Figaro a little bit of side-eye.]
I liked you better when you didn't move as much, Figaro.
[And here Gepard is, rubbing little circles onto Figaro's back. It'll be a bit of a shame to lose his weighted blanket, and Gepard makes a face at the thought - it's nice having someone to cuddle, even if that someone happens to have weird dietary requirements and is an amazing cook.
Maybe this is a sign he needs to get a pet? Like a dog, if Belobog was a normal planet that had room for pets. But they probably have something.]
I've really enjoyed all of your food. I have no doubt I'll love whatever it is you come up with next, Figaro.
It's kind of nice to have a reason to cook again. And you've been easy to please.
[Simple but hearty fare seems to satisfy Gepard-- roast meat and potatoes for dinner, eggs and crusty bread, fried sandwiches. It almost feels like cheating when it's this easy. But, well, he shouldn't say that, because he's not trying to win Gepard's heart over through his stomach or anything. But maybe lovely Miss Bronya will be able to do that, or whatever other pretty lady catches Gepard's eye.]
[For now, Sampo will just take advantage of the appreciation and back rubs and the occasional free people-flavored juice box. Especially the back rub, boy. Isn't Gepard being all nice and accommodating today!]
I should make bread for you sometime. I got bored once and spent like a month figuring out how to make a good sourdough, it'd be a shame to let all that work go to waste just because I can't have carbs.
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[A+, excellent body pillow, would cuddle again. Would maybe spoon, if the opportunity arose, or even fork.]
[He closes his eyes. Gepard’s fingers haven’t stopped yet, and it’s really hard to resist the urge to just fall asleep on him. He’s warm and full and getting a totally platonic neck rub from a handsome man, who wouldn’t feel like taking a little nap in that situation?]
Are you trying to— [He interrupts himself with a yawn.] —put me to sleep? Because it’s working.
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Because of some reason or another. Because. Because it's a bad idea. Because it'll lead to more useless pining.]
Should I be sending you on your way?
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[His fingers stop combing through Sampo's thick hair, and he makes a displeased little noise about it but otherwise doesn't move. He's really enjoying that scalp massage, it seems like a shame to stop it just because the good Captain hasn't figured out that he needs to take a few steps out of the closet yet.]
Do you want me out of your hair? [He tips his head a little to get a better look up at Gepard. From this angle, he's only marginally less handsome because no one looks good when you can see up their nostrils.] I'd have to come back soon to make lunch for you, anyway. So it's not really any easier for me to leave and come back.
[Besides, he has ideas for that leftover tenderloin from last night. Some crunchy bread, a few greens, some horseradish and an au jus to dip it in... he'll make a sandwich so good that Gepard'll be glad to give him neck rubs.]
no subject
No, I like having you here.
[It's embarrassing, but it's true, and as Gepard says that he nudges Figaro - asking without asking for him to move up, it'll be easier to rub his spine if he's a little ways up. Plus, any boners will be less awkward that way, probably.]
It's been... [Fuck it. He can admit it.] It's been fun. Which is strange given how all of this started and the fact I don't even know your name, and that's not even getting into how you eat people, but- nobody's perfect, I suppose.
no subject
[So he scoots up and yawns into Gepard's shoulder, muffling himself with it. It's a nice shoulder.]
Don't ruin the fun, I'm sure you can figure out my name if you try. Maybe I'll give you a hint, if you ask me nice enough. [Maybe. Who knows! Gepard's not the dullest knife in the drawer, and he's got some very sharp people working with him. Surely he can do it himself.] And I don't eat people, I drink blood. There's a difference! It's an important one.
[Cannibalism and vampirism aren't the same thing, thank you very much. One is much messier and more rude than the other.]
no subject
[Oh, but Figaro's obliging, which is good, makes it easier to use him as a giant blanket and/or body pillow for cuddling- which Gepard does. He sighs, getting comfortable, just fucking making himself at home- it is his home. But he's settling in.
Gepard's a man of routine and he can feel new patterns being etched onto his bones. He really should be more worried about this- less the cuddling of some nameless man with a fixation on the letter O, and more the fact that he decided that he really wants to snuggle with him after letting him drink his blood.
One hand is at the nape of Figaro's neck. The other, trying to rub his back.]
You drink blood. Blood comes from people, so I suppose you're technically right.
[Clothes are in the way, and without thinking about it, Gepard slides a hand under what little Figaro has in the way of a shirt (he's not really a shirt guy, really) to rub patterns in his skin. It's like gentling a cat. He's got the world's worst bloodthirsty cat atop him. It doesn't matter.]
You drink people, not eat them, but is that really that different? [This is what he's focusing on.]
no subject
[It’s really a shame. What a waste of a perfectly good man, Sampo would gladly give him some special services if he was only so inclined. But Gepard would have no interest in that kind of thing from him, so there’s no use in even offering.]
[And instead of focusing on touching him, Gepard is fixated on the people eating thing.]
It is! Eating somebody makes it sound like I’m tearing chunks off or something. What I’m doing is barely worse than a blood donation.
[He tips his head a little to give the good Captain some serious side-eye.]
Hey. Just let me take the win where I can get it, okay?
[He’s an obligate bloodsucker and it’s objectively awful, at least let him have his little semantic arguments.]
no subject
And now Gepard's moving to give Figaro a little bit of side-eye.]
I liked you better when you didn't move as much, Figaro.
no subject
[A little bro massage, as bros do. There’s nothing weird about rubbing another man’s back in a totally platonic and heterosexual way.]
Just a few more minutes, before I make lunch? It’s going to be a really good lunch, you’ll want to thank me for it.
[He’s going to make a sandwich so good that Gepard continues to question his sexuality.]
no subject
[And here Gepard is, rubbing little circles onto Figaro's back. It'll be a bit of a shame to lose his weighted blanket, and Gepard makes a face at the thought - it's nice having someone to cuddle, even if that someone happens to have weird dietary requirements and is an amazing cook.
Maybe this is a sign he needs to get a pet? Like a dog, if Belobog was a normal planet that had room for pets. But they probably have something.]
I've really enjoyed all of your food. I have no doubt I'll love whatever it is you come up with next, Figaro.
no subject
[Simple but hearty fare seems to satisfy Gepard-- roast meat and potatoes for dinner, eggs and crusty bread, fried sandwiches. It almost feels like cheating when it's this easy. But, well, he shouldn't say that, because he's not trying to win Gepard's heart over through his stomach or anything. But maybe lovely Miss Bronya will be able to do that, or whatever other pretty lady catches Gepard's eye.]
[For now, Sampo will just take advantage of the appreciation and back rubs and the occasional free people-flavored juice box. Especially the back rub, boy. Isn't Gepard being all nice and accommodating today!]
I should make bread for you sometime. I got bored once and spent like a month figuring out how to make a good sourdough, it'd be a shame to let all that work go to waste just because I can't have carbs.