[His foot definitely connects with a shin, and, boy, Gepard has a kick like a mule. Sampo Ooo jolts up from his slump when he's kicked, then reaches underneath the table to rub at his poor, abused leg.]
C'mon, what was that for? This is police brutality.
[Don't rough him up until you've got him in an interrogation room, Gepard! That's got to be against Silvermane policy. Probably. Sampo Ooo's like 90% sure that there's something in the rules about not beating up your suspects, anyway.]
Well, I didn't know that he's a Silvermane guard at the time! [Dunn wears that massive helmet all the time when he's on-duty, Sampo Ooo couldn't recognize him when he was in armor.] I could've made it work, anyway. If I was a hot enough blond, I bet he wouldn't have turned me in! You can get guys to do almost anything if you're hot enough.
[Look, Gepard. A lot of men think with their dicks, present company apparently included, and Sampo Ooo knows this. Sometimes appealing to a man's dick is the best way to solve a problem, and your good pal isn't above resorting to that when necessary.]
[There's more he could say to that. There's more he wants to add to that, like how Silvermane policy would definitely carve out exceptions for mysterious men with haunting green eyes and an annoying fixation on the letter O, and he could tell the Architects the circumstances which drove him to aim a kick at Ooo's shin (why did he do this to himself, Figaro was better as names go) and they would say yes, yes, all of this is justified.
But then, Ooo (why) says that part about the hot blond, and Gepard gets as far as,]
If-
[And then his mouth shuts. And then it resolutely stays shut as Gepard chews his lip and reminds himself of a few things: he was just fed an amazing meal, dinner was great, Figaro (no more Ooo, not now, not for his sanity) is in a tough spot, dealing with a tough situation. Because that's sounding rather pointed. That's sounding like Figaro knows his...
...effect on him, but admitting he's a sucker for a hot man with green eyes would be giving way too much away, and, besides, would probably go straight to Figaro's ego. They've only known each other for a day or two at this point, and he already knows he doesn't want that to happen. Figaro is bad enough as is.]
Shall we get around to feeding you now? Given how many times you've brought up getting away from me, I'm assuming you're getting tired of my company. [Already! It's been how long? And already, Ooo (dammit, he meant Figaro) is eyeing the door. Already!]
[Gepard drops that line of conversation hard when Sampo starts talking about hot blonds and the things that men would do for them; isn't that interesting? He wouldn't have thought that the good Captain would be so squeamish about someone taking an interest in another guardsman-- is it because they're both men? He'd be very disappointed if that's the case.]
[But he does mention getting Sampo his dinner, and that's more important than poking at Gepard's insecurities. He perks up a little at the mention of it, injury to his shin forgotten.]
I am pretty peckish. But tired of your company? Never! You're a joy.
[Y'know, an absolute delight who kicks him in the shin whenever he talks about tasty Dunn. A joy to have in class.]
You'll want to be comfortable when we do it. And preferably laying down, in case you get lightheaded. [Wouldn't want the good Captain to fall over and hurt himself, after all. Sure, Sampo would be there to catch him, but it's better not to risk it.] How about your couch?
[He'd have suggested the bed, but he doesn't want to make Gepard skittish. Asking him to lay down in bed and let another man on top of him to get his teeth into him is... a little intimate? Probably a lot for a blushing virgin like Gepard.]
[Now. Now, here's the thing. Here is the thing. Gepard knows that it's most likely a line, that Figaro(oo) is likely trying to stay on his good side so he'd continue to help him - joke's on him, he's in this for the long haul - and that he shouldn't buy into it. The smart thing to do would be to remain a steel wall, stoic and impenetrable, as well as vaguely boring.
But Figaro(oo) calls him a joy, and Gepard blushes, quickly looking away, getting up from the table, because Figaro(oo) says that he should be on a couch and he's absolutely right, he's just going to get to doing that. Couch. Lying down on a couch. He can do that. For a brief moment, Gepard's tempted to point out a bed would be easier and more convenient, but then he considers the logistics behind that and that's a bit much, especially since he's trying to keep this as professional as humanly possible and Figaro(oo) is making this incredibly difficult.]
Where do you plan on biting me?
[He's lying down on his couch. This feels weird. Should he keep his eyes open or close? What's the etiquette for blood donation?] There shouldn't be a problem if I'm off duty for the next few days, so wherever you want is fine. I won't have to explain your...mark to people- oh, I'll do the dishes.
[As if that's important, but it deserves to be said.] You've done so much for me. Cleaning up is the least I can do.
[Eyes closed. He's closing his eyes. It's easier this way. Less likely to get flustered.]
[Ah, getting Gepard to blush-- it's quickly becoming one of Sampo(oo)'s favorite hobbies. And he hadn't even said anything particularly scandalous this time! Nothing about being a sexy blond or biting tasty guard captains. Which, speaking of the tastiness of guard captains...]
[Gepard goes to the couch with little resistance, and Sampo follows. It's a rather practical sort of couch, perfectly serviceable but a little in the vein of a bachelor's first set of furniture. Comfortable enough, probably. The good Captain at least doesn't look uncomfortable while he's laying there, at least not physically.]
[He's also going to clean up the dishes. That's nice, but a bit of a non-sequitur.]
I can bite anywhere there's decent blood supply and soft tissue. [Fairly obvious. It's a bad idea to bite over bony parts or somewhere that doesn't bleed well.] Neck's easy, but it's not like I have to bite there. The forearm's can work, too. Or the thigh.
[He sits on the couch next to Gepard, leans over him.] If you don't care, I'd rather do the neck. It's the faster option, aside from maybe the thigh. But I figure we don't know each other well enough for you to start taking off your pants. [Wink!]
[His hands are gentle when he tips Gepard's head a little to the side, giving him good access. Still gentle when he leans in, mouth brushing the warm skin of his throat. Gepard smells delicious-- fragrant and complex like a good wine.]
I don't usually eat from people who are still awake. This might be kind of uncomfortable? I'll try to take it easy on you.
[His teeth sink in, a smooth, sharp puncture. Blood wells over his tongue again, and while he can't say that Gepard exactly tastes good-- a day or two of good food and moderate sleep can't fix his problems-- he's not as horribly bitter as before. A tolerable meal rather than a vile one.]
[There had been a part of him that hoped that Figaro(oo) would just...get with it. Just grab a limb and chomp on down. Impersonal. To the point.
But no, Gepard feels weight against the couch. His eyes open again. Gepard stares up at Figaro. His blue eyes blink - blink blink - as he hears Figaro talk, neck, forearms, Gepard immediately decides he's going to pretend like he didn't hear about the third region, Figaro repeats the part about his thighs and winks and Gepard can't pretend like he hadn't heard that part. It takes an effort to keep from looking away from Figaro, to stare at the ceiling, the couch, to close his eyes again, it takes an effort and he has to fight the instinctual urge to shove Figaro to the ground.
Figaro's hands are gentle. (Damn him.) He can't help it. Gepard nuzzles into that hand as it tilts his head to the side. The lips make him shiver. He's prepared to blame it on the fact that he's prey in the hands of a predator. Don't read too much into it. He feels breath against his skin. Then-
Pain. An agonizing moment of pain, one which sears through his skin as teeth sink in and his spine goes taut and his mind screams at him to fight, to run, to throw Figaro off of him-
-but then, euphoria, joy running through his veins, alien but...welcoming. He welcomes it. It's- it's-
His hand runs through Figaro's hair and he marvels at how silky-smooth it feels, at least in that moment. Gepard hears a moan. It's his own. He hasn't realized it yet. He's too busy trying to pull Figaro, to urge him closer to, have him drink all that he might want to, to use up everything that he is to care about things like the fact he made a very embarrassing moan and the second the bite wears off he's going to fucking die of embarrassment. Bites should be painful. He should hate this.
[The thing about even only an okay-tasting meal is that after weeks of having nothing, it doesn't really matter much that it isn't the most spectacular thing that he's ever tasted. Gepard might as well be a gourmet class meal, because the first gulp of blood down his throat is like balm on a burn, soothing the gnawing ache of his hunger. As intoxicating as the golden liquor they serve at the Tavern, a distillate of Elation. There's a moment where Gepard's body goes stiff against him and he can feel that sudden tension, but it just... drains out of him, leaves him pliant and warm and yielding. Perfect prey, unresistant even with a predator's teeth in him.]
[Hands pull him closer, urging him on rather than away. Sampo can feel the resonance of Gepard's moan through his teeth, the sound vibrating in that lovely throat.]
[He gets his arms around Gepard and pulls him into them, drawing him close; Gepard is cradled in his embrace not entirely unlike the cover of some terrible half-Shield romance novel, but with the Captain as the damsel, the blond beauty trapped in the arms of a dark and handsome villain. And there's a not insignificant part of Sampo that wants to fulfill that role and drain Gepard of every last drop, until all of his warmth has been lost down his ravenous gullet.]
[One of Gepard's hands is tangled in his hair, and for a moment, it catches-- that brief sting is a sorely-needed reminder of what he's doing, of the fact that he's still drinking from Gepard even though he probably should have stopped by now. Sampo pulls back from him with a gasp like a man who's just surfaced from underwater. When he looks down at him, his eyes fall almost immediately back to his neck and the puncture marks there, the slowing slip of deep red from the wound.]
[He leans in again. Not to bite, but to drag his tongue over the blood that drips down his neck before it has the chance to ruin his collar.]
[The moment seems to slow. Everything's perfect. He's warm and safe in the arms of a mysterious man - someone whose name he doesn't even know, how funny - and he feels perfect. Warm and full of bliss. Hot and like all of his nerve endings are sparking eagerly. Gepard feels alive...
...and then Figaro pulls out. Gepard whimpers. It's a small, soft, desperate noise, the beginnings of begging, choked out by the tongue against his neck. Gepard arches his neck- Figaro wants to taste him, sure, he can taste every last bit of him, a breathless little a-ah coming out of his lips as his leg tries to tangle with Figaro's own, pull him down-
And then that's the point in which Gepard really sort of realizes what just happened. He freezes. He's suddenly aware of a few things:
1. Figaro's bite is more...it's nicer than he expected, a moment's pain and then pleasure, pure bliss. This might be a problem?
2. He also currently has an erection hard enough he could likely break through Qlipoth Fort if he tried. This is definitely a problem.
3. Figaro heard all of that, saw all of that, and if he hadn't come to when he did, would've felt all of that.
The joy is replaced with pure embarrassment and also, they're still kind of entangled, aren't they? He's still in Figaro's arms, his hand is still in Figaro's hair. If he knew Figaro's actual name, he might have moaned it by accident, and- Gepard breathes in, out, slower, in again, out again, trying to force himself to relax, and also hoping that maybe his erection isn't something noticeable...? Perhaps? Perhaps this happens all the time. Yes. Figaro's likely used to this.]
...sorry. [Please say it's normal. He looked like such a mess, probably, sounded like a mess, probably, definitely. Please say all the victims end up being ridiculous.
His hand, at a loss, starts stroking Figaro's hair which isn't silky-soft perfection, but the fact it's on the coarse and possibly split-ended side of things is, at least, a reassurance, that he won't start- that the bite only effects him so much.] I don't know what came over me.
[If Sampo had even had the first thought that Gepard might be interested in being tasted in more than just the very literal sense, he would have already been on top of him and getting him out of his clothes. He'd have shown Gepard a few other ways that his mouth could bring him pure bliss, and maybe his hands and some other parts of him, too, if the good Captain was feeling particularly lenient. He would've made up for that pint or so of blood that he just got, with interest.]
[What happens is that he pulls back, looks down at Gepard, and sees an immensely embarrassed guard captain with a red face entangled in his arms. He's flushed and his hair is a little messy and Sampo's not a hundred percent sure if that's an erection against his thigh or if Gepard's just got something in his pocket. (Something kind of big. No, bad Sampo, don't think about the hypothetical large penises of straight men who agreed to be your juice box.)]
[Gepard is apologizing for the whole... situation, for whatever came over him that made him make pretty noises and clutch onto Sampo like a lover. The only reason that Sampo isn't in the same embarrassing boat with him is because his downstairs doesn't really do much without a recent blood meal, and he's been so infrequent about his feedings that he wouldn't be able to stand and salute even if he wanted to.]
Hey, nothing to apologize for! It's no biggie. [He keeps his voice light. This is fine, right? They're just two guys, chilling on a couch, zero feet apart because they're not gay.] I guess it wasn't too uncomfortable for you!
[Which is like. That's a thing, probably, that's a thing that's kind of fucked up if he thinks about it for too long. Sure, he's an Elation Emanator, so maybe it makes sense that his bite brings pleasure, but it's also pretty fucked up to make a guy feel good while you're draining him dry. Killing him and making him love it.]
[But! That's an existential crisis for another day. Right now, he's got Gepard stroking his hair, and that's... probably a little weird. He might still be a bit loopy from the bite and the blood loss.]
How are you feeling? Okay? [He doesn't look bad. Looks pretty healthy, aside from the embarrassment.] I should probably take care of your neck pretty soon. You aren't bleeding, but it's still a bite.
[Focus on that rather than Gepard's schrodinger's boner.]
[If he had any delusions about Figaro being maybe, kind of, sort of interested in him, they're firmly squashed by the complete and total lack of reaction that he can see, or feel. Not that he's trying to see. Or feel. But he's got an erection that could puncture the Fragmentum; Figaro has absolutely nothing. His voice is light. Pitying? Hard to say. Definitely unmoved.
Gepard stops stroking Figaro's hair. He's grounded enough. The bite happened, and the bite's gone. Gepard breathes in, and then slowly breathes out, forcing himself to move past the embarrassment. He's trying to focus on what next, instead of what just happened. It's not working. It's just making him think about it more, and he wants to-
Figaro offers to dress his bite.]
N-no. [No. He has to say that more firmly.] No. [Better. Gepard touches his neck, missing the sensation of Figaro's hair almost immediately (coarse hair or imaginary silky-smooth perfection, either's fine) and he ignores that.
His neck feels sore. Sensitive. He doesn't like it.]
That won't be necessary. I've dressed worse wounds than this.
[This would be more convincing if he wasn't lying down, feeling vaguely ravished, in the arms of a stranger...Gepard tries to sit up, and feels woozy. Dizzy. Sudden vertigo.
[That first no is a little shaky; the second one is firmer, like he needed that second or two to get a hold of himself. And, really, Sampo has no reason not to believe him when he refuses help. The guy's a Silvermane guard captain, he's definitely had worse injuries than just a bite to the neck, and any good soldier knows at least a little bit of first aid. He could take care of himself.]
[But when he tries to sit up, he's unsteady, and Sampo gets an arm around his back to help stabilize him and get him upright. Don't worry, you can put your weight on him-- he's stronger than he looks.]
Hey, careful! You shouldn't try to get up so fast. [Blood loss, buddy.]
[Trying to get out of the strong arms of your vampiric acquaintance has really just kept you right in them. Now he's going to keep those arms around you, to make sure that you don't topple over.]
[His eyes fall again on the mark, on the tempting column of Gepard's throat. It's... he had enough to sustain himself, but there is a part of him that wants to bite down on him again. Maybe he'll be sweeter the second time. Maybe he'll make sweeter noises the second time. He licks his lips; there's still the faint taste of his last meal.]
At least let me get your first aid kit or something.
[And give him an excuse to not be tempted over a pale, lovely throat.]
[And he's exactly where he doesn't want to be, and Figaro's presence doesn't help with his...
Problem, and Gepard's learning new things about himself each moment that passes. New, unfortunate things. Here's one, Figaro smells amazing, and Gepard doesn't know if that's because of the bite (the same residual thing that had his little Earthwork in his pants wake up) or if Figaro always smells amazing. And it's not like he can sniff the guy on a normal basis.
For another, he's in his arms, and Gepard finds that he doesn't want to leave. Isn't that funny? Isn't it great how these things work? And he feels just enough vertigo that he can't find him, stand up, walk about on his own.
With a frustrated grunt, Gepard buries his face into whatever-of-Figaro is there; a neck, a shoulder, a chest. He closes his eyes. That doesn't help with the (amazing) scent, but it helps with the vertigo. A little.]
Help me to my bathroom.
[Then he can dress his wound and then pass out on the tiled floor, or something.
It takes an effort to not mumble it, from shame, from- something else, but Gepard puts in that effort. It comes out quietly, but at least it's not a mumble?]
[When Gepard's face presses against the crook of his neck, he'd be able to smell the particular combination of Sampo's cologne-- cedarwood and labdanum-- and red rose, still faintly clinging to his skin after a day's wear. He's not quite pretentious enough to say that he has a signature scent, but if he did, it would be that.]
[Gepard wants him to get him to the bathroom. It's an easy enough ask.]
Yeah, sure. Just bear with me for a second. [While he gets Gepard into his arms. When he lifts him off of the couch, it's with the same effortlessness that he'd lifted him when they'd met, as though Gepard's considerable weight was about as significant as a sack of flour.] Gotcha.
[Secure in his arms, in a princess carry. No walking for you, you get the special treatment for pretty men.]
[He'd familiarized himself with the layout of Gepard's apartment a bit when he'd arrived, so he at least knows where the bathroom is. When he brings Gepard in and flicks on the light, he deposits his lightheaded cargo onto the closed toilet, so that he can sit and hopefully not feel too dizzy.]
You sure you're okay? [He kneels in front of him, to get a good look at his face in the light.] You look kind of pale. I didn't think I took that much from you?
[Now, he'd expected that he'd be helped to the bathroom, sure. He figured Figaro would be by his side, and he could just lean against him as he stumbles towards to the bathroom. He assumed that it would be embarrassing, because there's only so much dignity he could have in this situation. He got drained, he got hard, Gepard is now having his It's Complicated help him to the bathroom.
Somehow, Gepard hadn't expected that he'd be carried. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Figaro enjoys it. Cedarwood and tabdanum and red rose. He doesn't know these scents, all of them. They're more secrets. He wants to know more. He also wants Figaro to have his way with him, which is a bad thing.
So, for now, Gepard clings and buries his nose against Figaro's neck, and breathes.
He's deposited on a toilet. No, not a toilet. His toilet. Gepard blinks. Figaro's fucking kneeling. Which is fine, except Figaro's awkwardly crotch-high. Gepard blanches, which doesn't help with the entire pale thing.] You didn't take too much. It's more than I expected, but...not too much.
[He's trying to project confidence as much as he can, a confident captain, which only works so well, probably.]
[Maybe he does enjoy it, just a little bit. Don't call him out on it. But how can he not like it, when Gepard clings to him like that and presses his face into his neck?]
[Gepard keeps getting paler, blanching in front of him. Sampo frowns, because that's really not what healthy people are supposed to do. Healthy people have more pink in their cheeks.]
Maybe I should hang around for a while, in case you need anything. [Or in case he passes out and falls over, because he looks like he might do that at any moment.]
[Sampo stands and briefly goes through Gepard's cabinets until he finds the first aid kit, then brings it over to Gepard. The good Captain said that he could handle it himself, but it's fine if Sampo hangs around to be his helper, right? He can help clean out the wound and bandage it up, even if Gepard doesn't need him for anything more than handing over the antiseptic and gauze.]
You look really... peaky? [That's a nice way of saying it, right?]
...peaky. [He repeats this slower, and his hand clenches into a fist and his leg twitches in a way which implies that he really would love nothing more than to kick Figaro, but, instead, is foreshadowing the fact that, perhaps, there's a part of him that wants to grab Figaro by the hair, drag him over, and tell him to lick and take care of the problem he caused.
Clenching his own thigh is easier. Gepard does that and tries to pretend like he really doesn't want to grope himself.]
...I've been hoping you'd go so I could take care of...this. [He's making an effort to breathe in and out and in and out again, calm and slow and not at all worked up, no, not at all. But Figaro has no sign of...peakiness. He has to focus on that. How one-sided whatever-this-is really is.] I can hardly pull down my pants and go at it with you here, now can I? [Annoyed, annoyed, very annoyed, and stern. Completely in control, just lightly drained and unfortunately turned on by it, nothing to see here.]
[Had Gepard just done as he wanted and grabbed Sampo by the hair, dragging his face towards the erection that he was responsible for, a lot of things would probably have been solved a lot earlier. Many misconceptions would be cleared up, both of them would have a few revelations. But instead, this comedy of errors continues, like any good Shakespearean comedy.]
Well! I'll just leave you to it, then.
[As one does. Just leave a guy to his jerking off, like bros do. Totally heterosexual.]
[Sampo fucks off. Or, more specifically, Sampo leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind him, giving Gepard his privacy so that he can jerk off without an audience. He also walks across the hall and gently beats his head off of the wall, out of pure frustration and embarrassment that he just had the Hot Guy tell him to fuck off so that he could jerk it.]
[After all, if Gepard had had any sort of interest in men or in him specifically, he would have asked him to stay, right? Evidence in the Straight Man pile. He's probably going to like, think of Bronya or tits or something.]
[Gepard said that he would clean up the kitchen, but Sampo puts away the rest of the tenderloin anyway, just to make sure that it gets put away while it's still good. After that? He fucks off, back to his Overworld safe house. Because what's he supposed to do, wait around until Gepard has finished tugging it? Ask him how it was? Absolutely not.]
[Great! Because it's terrible! It's this frustrating cycle of fantasizing about someone, remembering he told that someone to fuck off, getting angry (at himself, at Figaro, who knows, he doesn't even know Figaro's real name), getting harder, trying to think of nothing at all, fantasies start creeping in, if he was better he wouldn't be dealing with this, and-
And it takes a lot longer than it should, once he gets started. Eventually, Gepard comes in an angry mess, emerging from his bathroom (without pants, because who cares, it's not like anyone would be that interested) to find no one at all there. He doesn't do the dishes. He doesn't want to do the dishes.
Gepard's alone, and he just-
He goes back to his room, he crawls into his bed. He falls asleep, absurdly early, but that's fine, that means he can go to work tomorrow. Because right now, he really needs something to punch. And he'll probably need something to punch tomorrow.]
[Sampo lays in his serviceable but plain bed that night-- the same bed that Gepard had slept in not that long ago-- and stares at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about blond guard captains and the mess that he'd gotten himself into with one. Especially because he'd promised that he'd feed Gepard breakfast, lunch and dinner, three aeons-damned square meals a day, and now he has to figure out how he's going to get breakfast to him tomorrow morning without it being super weird. Without a boner-shaped elephant in the room.]
[He has no answer that night, nor the following morning, when he wakes up at stupid o'clock because Gepard is the kind of man who also wakes at stupid o'clock.]
[He does, indeed, make breakfast. Eggs, bacon, some really nice crusty sourdough bread that he toasts up in the excess bacon fat until it's nice and crispy, packed away in the same thermal lunchbox that he'd used to bring Gepard his fried olm sandwich. Brews up some coffee and pours it into an insulated flask to keep warm. Gepard probably has coffee at his place, especially since he's supposed to be on medical leave today, but hey. He's supposed to be providing the whole meal, right?]
[Sampo gets into Gepard's apartment by the same way he left it-- the window. It's still unlocked, probably because Gepard wouldn't have thought to check it before he went to bed, because who thinks to check a third story window anyway?]
[The plan is to just leave the food on the table for whenever Gepard comes out for breakfast, and maybe text him later to see if he actually still wanted him around for his day off, like he'd said yesterday. In case the... awkwardness of last night changed his mind on that.]
[He'd slept in. He hadn't meant to, but he had slept in. Apparently, he was more tired than he had thought, what with...work, the blood-sucking stranger going around gnawing on necks, the exhaustion that came with chasing a climax that took fucking forever to come, the mortification of knowing that the guy he might have kind of sort of liked a bit had to see him deal with a boner-
It's been a day! It's been an exhausting few days, really, and last night was very exhausting, and Gepard had a nightmare - nothing new, but also new, which meant that he slept in.
So, he gets up.
He takes off his shirt. He takes off his pants. Yawning, Gepard decides that he's going to actually probably want some (terrible) coffee from his coffee machine, which means walking into the kitchen and starting that, but at this point he can't be arsed to put on clothes just yet so he wraps his comforter around his body like he's a wizened old king standing on ramparts and staring out into his kingdom, lost in thought.
Gepard trudges.
It takes him a few minutes to process that he's not alone. Blame it on...everything that's happened. He had 200 forms he had to go through last week - blame it on that. But he enters his kitchen, blanket clutched about him, and it takes him a moment to place the figure in there, and another moment to realize what he's here to do, and then Gepard yelps in a way that very few people had heard him yelp. Loud. Gets attention. Solid yelp, yelps like a pro.]
[The dishes are still in the sink from last night-- so much for cleaning up-- so Sampo gets a start on those, since it seems like Gepard's still in bed. He's finishing up, just putting the clean pan on the rack to dry, when he hears the first sounds of life from Gepard's bedroom and the sound of shuffling footsteps coming down the hall.]
[The footsteps are heavy, as though their owner is burdened by a great weight. Or like he really doesn't want to be conscious right now. Big mood, right?]
[The shuffling enters the kitchen, probably in search of the coffee. Sampo has the thermos sitting on the counter next to him, so he takes a mug down from the cabinet and starts pouring--]
!!
[Only to nearly drop the whole mug when Gepard lets out a startled yelp that could've woken the neighbors. Sampo succeeds at saving the mug but does slop a bit of it over the rim and onto the counter. He turns, mug still in hand, only to see the good Captain wrapped up in his own comforter like a Silvermane burrito.]
[He was going to be annoyed, because who goes around yelling when the guy who said he'd deliver your breakfast actually delivers your breakfast? But then he saw Comforter King Gepard and it's just. He looks so disheveled and ridiculous that he's really having a hard time being mad about nearly having a heart attack and spilling some coffee. How can he be mad at someone who's basically a walking mound of down comforter?]
[He stares at Figaro. A bit wide-eyed, just drinking in the sight of him at his counter. Gepard wishes he hadn't taken off his shirt, his pants, but to retreat might mean losing the moment, or, worse Figaro (what is his name, what is his name) leaving in the meantime.]
Thank you. [He breathes it out, and then shakes his head, just- he has to focus. Words (at least when it came to interpersonal things, not work, when it came to feelings) had never been his strong suit, but he had to try to muddle his way through.
But he can face this. He faced monsters trying to eat his head. This is nothing by comparison. He doesn't move, in part because he's...fucking nude underneath the comforter, and in part because, well.]
I didn't think you would come back. I would've found another way to help you if you didn't- don't want to see me again, and I wouldn't blame you after last night. [Well, because that.] I'm sorry for what happened.
[Sampo just has to stand there with the cup of coffee while Gepard bumbles his way through an unexpected apology, since he's apparently felt bad about what happened last night. And while Sampo did lay awake thinking about Gepard and his inopportune boner, it was mostly because of the existential crisis that is finding out that biting people makes them feel good whether they want it or not.]
[Well, hopefully the guy was able to close his eyes and think of somebody that he wanted until he sorted himself out. Bronya or whatever other pretty, upstanding lady caught his eye.]
Don't worry about it! What's an awkward boner or two between... friends?
[He holds the coffee out for him. Take it, Comforter King, drink the bean elixir of life.] Anyway, I should be apologizing to you! If I'd known it would be like that, I would've warned you.
It's all [he makes a sweeping gesture] water under the bridge, right? I made breakfast for you, anyway, so I'm at least not leaving 'til you've gotten it.
[...friends isn't the worst thing to be. They're not exactly friends (there's too much he doesn't know) but they could be friends, and given Figaro's...difficulties, he can take comfort in being someone that Figaro can turn to. As a friend.
So. Gepard adjusts his grip on his comforter to a one-handed clutch around his waist, so he can take the drink with his other hand without flashing anything below the belt at Figaro, in the process unintentionally confirming (if Figaro was wondering, but he probably wasn't) that he's not wearing a shirt at the moment. It doesn't matter. Many people have seen him change and no one cares, Figaro included, probably.
...but, that said, that still didn't mean he should just flash Figaro. Even if Figaro didn't care in that way, that doesn't mean he wants to see random cock-and-balls. Far from, in fact.
He should retreat to put on pants, and Gepard will in a second. First things first: the bean elixir of life. Gepard smells it, savors it, closes his eyes and then takes a slow sip.]
It's good. Better than what my coffee maker can make. [His eyes open again.]
Let me go change. I wasn't expecting company, so I'm not exactly decent beneath, well. [He shrugs.] This. [The comforter, his shroud.] I'll be back.
[And he's trundling off to put on some pants, holding his comforter-skirt in one hand, and the coffee in the other.]
[It's certainly intriguing to know that the good Captain isn't wearing a stitch under that comforter, but, well. As last night's disastrous events revealed, Gepard isn't interested in Sampo in the non-platonic fashion, so there's no reason for Sampo to dwell too much on what he's hiding under there. It's not for him! It's for some lucky lady someday, who'll get to have the Captain and his undoubtedly handsome and strong body for herself. Pop out a few sweet blond Landau babies and live happily ever after and all that rot.]
[Gepard closes his eyes when he takes a sip of coffee, savoring it like it really is the elixir of life. It really isn't fair that he's handsome.]
Sure, go ahead. I'll get breakfast set out.
[So while Gepard shuffles off to go put on a decent amount of clothing, Sampo sets out his breakfast for him, plates it up on his own dishes so that he doesn't have to eat it out of to-go containers. Two eggs over-easy, served on the crusty fried toast with a plentiful side of bacon. If Belobog weren't an iceball of a planet, he would have added some avocado to the toast, maybe poured him a glass of orange juice for the vitamin C. But citrus and avocados are unheard of in Belobog's post-Eternal Freeze, if they ever existed here even before that. One day, maybe Sampo could--]
[What's he thinking? Nothing important.]
[When Gepard returns, presumably fully clothed, he'll have a curious Sampo poking around a little of his apartment-- maybe taking a look at his windowsills, and the pots that line them.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-05-28 12:37 am (UTC)[His foot definitely connects with a shin, and, boy, Gepard has a kick like a mule.
SampoOoo jolts up from his slump when he's kicked, then reaches underneath the table to rub at his poor, abused leg.]C'mon, what was that for? This is police brutality.
[Don't rough him up until you've got him in an interrogation room, Gepard! That's got to be against Silvermane policy. Probably.
SampoOoo's like 90% sure that there's something in the rules about not beating up your suspects, anyway.]Well, I didn't know that he's a Silvermane guard at the time! [Dunn wears that massive helmet all the time when he's on-duty,
SampoOoo couldn't recognize him when he was in armor.] I could've made it work, anyway. If I was a hot enough blond, I bet he wouldn't have turned me in! You can get guys to do almost anything if you're hot enough.[Look, Gepard. A lot of men think with their dicks, present company apparently included, and
SampoOoo knows this. Sometimes appealing to a man's dick is the best way to solve a problem, and your good pal isn't above resorting to that when necessary.]no subject
Date: 2024-05-28 01:11 am (UTC)[There's more he could say to that. There's more he wants to add to that, like how Silvermane policy would definitely carve out exceptions for mysterious men with haunting green eyes and an annoying fixation on the letter O, and he could tell the Architects the circumstances which drove him to aim a kick at Ooo's shin (why did he do this to himself, Figaro was better as names go) and they would say yes, yes, all of this is justified.
But then, Ooo (why) says that part about the hot blond, and Gepard gets as far as,]
If-
[And then his mouth shuts. And then it resolutely stays shut as Gepard chews his lip and reminds himself of a few things: he was just fed an amazing meal, dinner was great, Figaro (no more Ooo, not now, not for his sanity) is in a tough spot, dealing with a tough situation. Because that's sounding rather pointed. That's sounding like Figaro knows his...
...effect on him, but admitting he's a sucker for a hot man with green eyes would be giving way too much away, and, besides, would probably go straight to Figaro's ego. They've only known each other for a day or two at this point, and he already knows he doesn't want that to happen. Figaro is bad enough as is.]
Shall we get around to feeding you now? Given how many times you've brought up getting away from me, I'm assuming you're getting tired of my company. [Already! It's been how long? And already, Ooo (dammit, he meant Figaro) is eyeing the door. Already!]
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Date: 2024-05-28 02:48 am (UTC)[But he does mention getting Sampo his dinner, and that's more important than poking at Gepard's insecurities. He perks up a little at the mention of it, injury to his shin forgotten.]
I am pretty peckish. But tired of your company? Never! You're a joy.
[Y'know, an absolute delight who kicks him in the shin whenever he talks about tasty Dunn. A joy to have in class.]
You'll want to be comfortable when we do it. And preferably laying down, in case you get lightheaded. [Wouldn't want the good Captain to fall over and hurt himself, after all. Sure, Sampo would be there to catch him, but it's better not to risk it.] How about your couch?
[He'd have suggested the bed, but he doesn't want to make Gepard skittish. Asking him to lay down in bed and let another man on top of him to get his teeth into him is... a little intimate? Probably a lot for a blushing virgin like Gepard.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-29 03:48 am (UTC)But Figaro(oo) calls him a joy, and Gepard blushes, quickly looking away, getting up from the table, because Figaro(oo) says that he should be on a couch and he's absolutely right, he's just going to get to doing that. Couch. Lying down on a couch. He can do that. For a brief moment, Gepard's tempted to point out a bed would be easier and more convenient, but then he considers the logistics behind that and that's a bit much, especially since he's trying to keep this as professional as humanly possible and Figaro(oo) is making this incredibly difficult.]
Where do you plan on biting me?
[He's lying down on his couch. This feels weird. Should he keep his eyes open or close? What's the etiquette for blood donation?] There shouldn't be a problem if I'm off duty for the next few days, so wherever you want is fine. I won't have to explain your...mark to people- oh, I'll do the dishes.
[As if that's important, but it deserves to be said.] You've done so much for me. Cleaning up is the least I can do.
[Eyes closed. He's closing his eyes. It's easier this way. Less likely to get flustered.]
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Date: 2024-05-29 04:46 am (UTC)[Gepard goes to the couch with little resistance, and Sampo follows. It's a rather practical sort of couch, perfectly serviceable but a little in the vein of a bachelor's first set of furniture. Comfortable enough, probably. The good Captain at least doesn't look uncomfortable while he's laying there, at least not physically.]
[He's also going to clean up the dishes. That's nice, but a bit of a non-sequitur.]
I can bite anywhere there's decent blood supply and soft tissue. [Fairly obvious. It's a bad idea to bite over bony parts or somewhere that doesn't bleed well.] Neck's easy, but it's not like I have to bite there. The forearm's can work, too. Or the thigh.
[He sits on the couch next to Gepard, leans over him.] If you don't care, I'd rather do the neck. It's the faster option, aside from maybe the thigh. But I figure we don't know each other well enough for you to start taking off your pants. [Wink!]
[His hands are gentle when he tips Gepard's head a little to the side, giving him good access. Still gentle when he leans in, mouth brushing the warm skin of his throat. Gepard smells delicious-- fragrant and complex like a good wine.]
I don't usually eat from people who are still awake. This might be kind of uncomfortable? I'll try to take it easy on you.
[His teeth sink in, a smooth, sharp puncture. Blood wells over his tongue again, and while he can't say that Gepard exactly tastes good-- a day or two of good food and moderate sleep can't fix his problems-- he's not as horribly bitter as before. A tolerable meal rather than a vile one.]
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Date: 2024-05-30 04:00 am (UTC)But no, Gepard feels weight against the couch. His eyes open again. Gepard stares up at Figaro. His blue eyes blink - blink blink - as he hears Figaro talk, neck, forearms, Gepard immediately decides he's going to pretend like he didn't hear about the third region, Figaro repeats the part about his thighs and winks and Gepard can't pretend like he hadn't heard that part. It takes an effort to keep from looking away from Figaro, to stare at the ceiling, the couch, to close his eyes again, it takes an effort and he has to fight the instinctual urge to shove Figaro to the ground.
Figaro's hands are gentle. (Damn him.) He can't help it. Gepard nuzzles into that hand as it tilts his head to the side. The lips make him shiver. He's prepared to blame it on the fact that he's prey in the hands of a predator. Don't read too much into it. He feels breath against his skin. Then-
Pain. An agonizing moment of pain, one which sears through his skin as teeth sink in and his spine goes taut and his mind screams at him to fight, to run, to throw Figaro off of him-
-but then, euphoria, joy running through his veins, alien but...welcoming. He welcomes it. It's- it's-
His hand runs through Figaro's hair and he marvels at how silky-smooth it feels, at least in that moment. Gepard hears a moan. It's his own. He hasn't realized it yet. He's too busy trying to pull Figaro, to urge him closer to, have him drink all that he might want to, to use up everything that he is to care about things like the fact he made a very embarrassing moan and the second the bite wears off he's going to fucking die of embarrassment. Bites should be painful. He should hate this.
But he doesn't.]
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Date: 2024-05-30 05:21 am (UTC)[Hands pull him closer, urging him on rather than away. Sampo can feel the resonance of Gepard's moan through his teeth, the sound vibrating in that lovely throat.]
[He gets his arms around Gepard and pulls him into them, drawing him close; Gepard is cradled in his embrace not entirely unlike the cover of some terrible half-Shield romance novel, but with the Captain as the damsel, the blond beauty trapped in the arms of a dark and handsome villain. And there's a not insignificant part of Sampo that wants to fulfill that role and drain Gepard of every last drop, until all of his warmth has been lost down his ravenous gullet.]
[One of Gepard's hands is tangled in his hair, and for a moment, it catches-- that brief sting is a sorely-needed reminder of what he's doing, of the fact that he's still drinking from Gepard even though he probably should have stopped by now. Sampo pulls back from him with a gasp like a man who's just surfaced from underwater. When he looks down at him, his eyes fall almost immediately back to his neck and the puncture marks there, the slowing slip of deep red from the wound.]
[He leans in again. Not to bite, but to drag his tongue over the blood that drips down his neck before it has the chance to ruin his collar.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-31 02:11 am (UTC)...and then Figaro pulls out. Gepard whimpers. It's a small, soft, desperate noise, the beginnings of begging, choked out by the tongue against his neck. Gepard arches his neck- Figaro wants to taste him, sure, he can taste every last bit of him, a breathless little a-ah coming out of his lips as his leg tries to tangle with Figaro's own, pull him down-
And then that's the point in which Gepard really sort of realizes what just happened. He freezes. He's suddenly aware of a few things:
1. Figaro's bite is more...it's nicer than he expected, a moment's pain and then pleasure, pure bliss. This might be a problem?
2. He also currently has an erection hard enough he could likely break through Qlipoth Fort if he tried. This is definitely a problem.
3. Figaro heard all of that, saw all of that, and if he hadn't come to when he did, would've felt all of that.
The joy is replaced with pure embarrassment and also, they're still kind of entangled, aren't they? He's still in Figaro's arms, his hand is still in Figaro's hair. If he knew Figaro's actual name, he might have moaned it by accident, and- Gepard breathes in, out, slower, in again, out again, trying to force himself to relax, and also hoping that maybe his erection isn't something noticeable...? Perhaps? Perhaps this happens all the time. Yes. Figaro's likely used to this.]
...sorry. [Please say it's normal. He looked like such a mess, probably, sounded like a mess, probably, definitely. Please say all the victims end up being ridiculous.
His hand, at a loss, starts stroking Figaro's hair which isn't silky-soft perfection, but the fact it's on the coarse and possibly split-ended side of things is, at least, a reassurance, that he won't start- that the bite only effects him so much.] I don't know what came over me.
no subject
Date: 2024-06-04 05:40 am (UTC)[What happens is that he pulls back, looks down at Gepard, and sees an immensely embarrassed guard captain with a red face entangled in his arms. He's flushed and his hair is a little messy and Sampo's not a hundred percent sure if that's an erection against his thigh or if Gepard's just got something in his pocket. (Something kind of big. No, bad Sampo, don't think about the hypothetical large penises of straight men who agreed to be your juice box.)]
[Gepard is apologizing for the whole... situation, for whatever came over him that made him make pretty noises and clutch onto Sampo like a lover. The only reason that Sampo isn't in the same embarrassing boat with him is because his downstairs doesn't really do much without a recent blood meal, and he's been so infrequent about his feedings that he wouldn't be able to stand and salute even if he wanted to.]
Hey, nothing to apologize for! It's no biggie. [He keeps his voice light. This is fine, right? They're just two guys, chilling on a couch, zero feet apart because they're not gay.] I guess it wasn't too uncomfortable for you!
[Which is like. That's a thing, probably, that's a thing that's kind of fucked up if he thinks about it for too long. Sure, he's an Elation Emanator, so maybe it makes sense that his bite brings pleasure, but it's also pretty fucked up to make a guy feel good while you're draining him dry. Killing him and making him love it.]
[But! That's an existential crisis for another day. Right now, he's got Gepard stroking his hair, and that's... probably a little weird. He might still be a bit loopy from the bite and the blood loss.]
How are you feeling? Okay? [He doesn't look bad. Looks pretty healthy, aside from the embarrassment.] I should probably take care of your neck pretty soon. You aren't bleeding, but it's still a bite.
[Focus on that rather than Gepard's schrodinger's boner.]
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Date: 2024-06-05 03:09 am (UTC)Gepard stops stroking Figaro's hair. He's grounded enough. The bite happened, and the bite's gone. Gepard breathes in, and then slowly breathes out, forcing himself to move past the embarrassment. He's trying to focus on what next, instead of what just happened. It's not working. It's just making him think about it more, and he wants to-
Figaro offers to dress his bite.]
N-no. [No. He has to say that more firmly.] No. [Better. Gepard touches his neck, missing the sensation of Figaro's hair almost immediately (coarse hair or imaginary silky-smooth perfection, either's fine) and he ignores that.
His neck feels sore. Sensitive. He doesn't like it.]
That won't be necessary. I've dressed worse wounds than this.
[This would be more convincing if he wasn't lying down, feeling vaguely ravished, in the arms of a stranger...Gepard tries to sit up, and feels woozy. Dizzy. Sudden vertigo.
He's dealt with worse.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-07 03:43 am (UTC)[But when he tries to sit up, he's unsteady, and Sampo gets an arm around his back to help stabilize him and get him upright. Don't worry, you can put your weight on him-- he's stronger than he looks.]
Hey, careful! You shouldn't try to get up so fast. [Blood loss, buddy.]
[Trying to get out of the strong arms of your vampiric acquaintance has really just kept you right in them. Now he's going to keep those arms around you, to make sure that you don't topple over.]
[His eyes fall again on the mark, on the tempting column of Gepard's throat. It's... he had enough to sustain himself, but there is a part of him that wants to bite down on him again. Maybe he'll be sweeter the second time. Maybe he'll make sweeter noises the second time. He licks his lips; there's still the faint taste of his last meal.]
At least let me get your first aid kit or something.
[And give him an excuse to not be tempted over a pale, lovely throat.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 01:28 am (UTC)Problem, and Gepard's learning new things about himself each moment that passes. New, unfortunate things. Here's one, Figaro smells amazing, and Gepard doesn't know if that's because of the bite (the same residual thing that had his little Earthwork in his pants wake up) or if Figaro always smells amazing. And it's not like he can sniff the guy on a normal basis.
For another, he's in his arms, and Gepard finds that he doesn't want to leave. Isn't that funny? Isn't it great how these things work? And he feels just enough vertigo that he can't find him, stand up, walk about on his own.
With a frustrated grunt, Gepard buries his face into whatever-of-Figaro is there; a neck, a shoulder, a chest. He closes his eyes. That doesn't help with the (amazing) scent, but it helps with the vertigo. A little.]
Help me to my bathroom.
[Then he can dress his wound and then pass out on the tiled floor, or something.
It takes an effort to not mumble it, from shame, from- something else, but Gepard puts in that effort. It comes out quietly, but at least it's not a mumble?]
That's all you need to do.
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 02:07 am (UTC)[Gepard wants him to get him to the bathroom. It's an easy enough ask.]
Yeah, sure. Just bear with me for a second. [While he gets Gepard into his arms. When he lifts him off of the couch, it's with the same effortlessness that he'd lifted him when they'd met, as though Gepard's considerable weight was about as significant as a sack of flour.] Gotcha.
[Secure in his arms, in a princess carry. No walking for you, you get the special treatment for pretty men.]
[He'd familiarized himself with the layout of Gepard's apartment a bit when he'd arrived, so he at least knows where the bathroom is. When he brings Gepard in and flicks on the light, he deposits his lightheaded cargo onto the closed toilet, so that he can sit and hopefully not feel too dizzy.]
You sure you're okay? [He kneels in front of him, to get a good look at his face in the light.] You look kind of pale. I didn't think I took that much from you?
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 04:09 am (UTC)Somehow, Gepard hadn't expected that he'd be carried. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Figaro enjoys it. Cedarwood and tabdanum and red rose. He doesn't know these scents, all of them. They're more secrets. He wants to know more. He also wants Figaro to have his way with him, which is a bad thing.
So, for now, Gepard clings and buries his nose against Figaro's neck, and breathes.
He's deposited on a toilet. No, not a toilet. His toilet. Gepard blinks. Figaro's fucking kneeling. Which is fine, except Figaro's awkwardly crotch-high. Gepard blanches, which doesn't help with the entire pale thing.] You didn't take too much. It's more than I expected, but...not too much.
[He's trying to project confidence as much as he can, a confident captain, which only works so well, probably.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 04:20 am (UTC)[Gepard keeps getting paler, blanching in front of him. Sampo frowns, because that's really not what healthy people are supposed to do. Healthy people have more pink in their cheeks.]
Maybe I should hang around for a while, in case you need anything. [Or in case he passes out and falls over, because he looks like he might do that at any moment.]
[Sampo stands and briefly goes through Gepard's cabinets until he finds the first aid kit, then brings it over to Gepard. The good Captain said that he could handle it himself, but it's fine if Sampo hangs around to be his helper, right? He can help clean out the wound and bandage it up, even if Gepard doesn't need him for anything more than handing over the antiseptic and gauze.]
You look really... peaky? [That's a nice way of saying it, right?]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 05:43 am (UTC)Clenching his own thigh is easier. Gepard does that and tries to pretend like he really doesn't want to grope himself.]
...I've been hoping you'd go so I could take care of...this. [He's making an effort to breathe in and out and in and out again, calm and slow and not at all worked up, no, not at all. But Figaro has no sign of...peakiness. He has to focus on that. How one-sided whatever-this-is really is.] I can hardly pull down my pants and go at it with you here, now can I? [Annoyed, annoyed, very annoyed, and stern. Completely in control, just lightly drained and unfortunately turned on by it, nothing to see here.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 06:05 am (UTC)[Right, the boner issue.]
[Had Gepard just done as he wanted and grabbed Sampo by the hair, dragging his face towards the erection that he was responsible for, a lot of things would probably have been solved a lot earlier. Many misconceptions would be cleared up, both of them would have a few revelations. But instead, this comedy of errors continues, like any good Shakespearean comedy.]
Well! I'll just leave you to it, then.
[As one does. Just leave a guy to his jerking off, like bros do. Totally heterosexual.]
[Sampo fucks off. Or, more specifically, Sampo leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind him, giving Gepard his privacy so that he can jerk off without an audience. He also walks across the hall and gently beats his head off of the wall, out of pure frustration and embarrassment that he just had the Hot Guy tell him to fuck off so that he could jerk it.]
[After all, if Gepard had had any sort of interest in men or in him specifically, he would have asked him to stay, right? Evidence in the Straight Man pile. He's probably going to like, think of Bronya or tits or something.]
[Gepard said that he would clean up the kitchen, but Sampo puts away the rest of the tenderloin anyway, just to make sure that it gets put away while it's still good. After that? He fucks off, back to his Overworld safe house. Because what's he supposed to do, wait around until Gepard has finished tugging it? Ask him how it was? Absolutely not.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 04:32 pm (UTC)And it takes a lot longer than it should, once he gets started. Eventually, Gepard comes in an angry mess, emerging from his bathroom (without pants, because who cares, it's not like anyone would be that interested) to find no one at all there. He doesn't do the dishes. He doesn't want to do the dishes.
Gepard's alone, and he just-
He goes back to his room, he crawls into his bed. He falls asleep, absurdly early, but that's fine, that means he can go to work tomorrow. Because right now, he really needs something to punch. And he'll probably need something to punch tomorrow.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 07:11 pm (UTC)[He has no answer that night, nor the following morning, when he wakes up at stupid o'clock because Gepard is the kind of man who also wakes at stupid o'clock.]
[He does, indeed, make breakfast. Eggs, bacon, some really nice crusty sourdough bread that he toasts up in the excess bacon fat until it's nice and crispy, packed away in the same thermal lunchbox that he'd used to bring Gepard his fried olm sandwich. Brews up some coffee and pours it into an insulated flask to keep warm. Gepard probably has coffee at his place, especially since he's supposed to be on medical leave today, but hey. He's supposed to be providing the whole meal, right?]
[Sampo gets into Gepard's apartment by the same way he left it-- the window. It's still unlocked, probably because Gepard wouldn't have thought to check it before he went to bed, because who thinks to check a third story window anyway?]
[The plan is to just leave the food on the table for whenever Gepard comes out for breakfast, and maybe text him later to see if he actually still wanted him around for his day off, like he'd said yesterday. In case the... awkwardness of last night changed his mind on that.]
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 10:05 pm (UTC)It's been a day! It's been an exhausting few days, really, and last night was very exhausting, and Gepard had a nightmare - nothing new, but also new, which meant that he slept in.
So, he gets up.
He takes off his shirt. He takes off his pants. Yawning, Gepard decides that he's going to actually probably want some (terrible) coffee from his coffee machine, which means walking into the kitchen and starting that, but at this point he can't be arsed to put on clothes just yet so he wraps his comforter around his body like he's a wizened old king standing on ramparts and staring out into his kingdom, lost in thought.
Gepard trudges.
It takes him a few minutes to process that he's not alone. Blame it on...everything that's happened. He had 200 forms he had to go through last week - blame it on that. But he enters his kitchen, blanket clutched about him, and it takes him a moment to place the figure in there, and another moment to realize what he's here to do, and then Gepard yelps in a way that very few people had heard him yelp. Loud. Gets attention. Solid yelp, yelps like a pro.]
You?
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 10:47 pm (UTC)[The footsteps are heavy, as though their owner is burdened by a great weight. Or like he really doesn't want to be conscious right now. Big mood, right?]
[The shuffling enters the kitchen, probably in search of the coffee. Sampo has the thermos sitting on the counter next to him, so he takes a mug down from the cabinet and starts pouring--]
!!
[Only to nearly drop the whole mug when Gepard lets out a startled yelp that could've woken the neighbors. Sampo succeeds at saving the mug but does slop a bit of it over the rim and onto the counter. He turns, mug still in hand, only to see the good Captain wrapped up in his own comforter like a Silvermane burrito.]
[He was going to be annoyed, because who goes around yelling when the guy who said he'd deliver your breakfast actually delivers your breakfast? But then he saw Comforter King Gepard and it's just. He looks so disheveled and ridiculous that he's really having a hard time being mad about nearly having a heart attack and spilling some coffee. How can he be mad at someone who's basically a walking mound of down comforter?]
I made coffee?
no subject
Date: 2024-06-08 11:43 pm (UTC)Thank you. [He breathes it out, and then shakes his head, just- he has to focus. Words (at least when it came to interpersonal things, not work, when it came to feelings) had never been his strong suit, but he had to try to muddle his way through.
But he can face this. He faced monsters trying to eat his head. This is nothing by comparison. He doesn't move, in part because he's...fucking nude underneath the comforter, and in part because, well.]
I didn't think you would come back. I would've found another way to help you if you didn't- don't want to see me again, and I wouldn't blame you after last night. [Well, because that.] I'm sorry for what happened.
no subject
Date: 2024-06-09 02:25 am (UTC)[Well, hopefully the guy was able to close his eyes and think of somebody that he wanted until he sorted himself out. Bronya or whatever other pretty, upstanding lady caught his eye.]
Don't worry about it! What's an awkward boner or two between... friends?
[He holds the coffee out for him. Take it, Comforter King, drink the bean elixir of life.] Anyway, I should be apologizing to you! If I'd known it would be like that, I would've warned you.
It's all [he makes a sweeping gesture] water under the bridge, right? I made breakfast for you, anyway, so I'm at least not leaving 'til you've gotten it.
no subject
Date: 2024-06-09 05:16 am (UTC)So. Gepard adjusts his grip on his comforter to a one-handed clutch around his waist, so he can take the drink with his other hand without flashing anything below the belt at Figaro, in the process unintentionally confirming (if Figaro was wondering, but he probably wasn't) that he's not wearing a shirt at the moment. It doesn't matter. Many people have seen him change and no one cares, Figaro included, probably.
...but, that said, that still didn't mean he should just flash Figaro. Even if Figaro didn't care in that way, that doesn't mean he wants to see random cock-and-balls. Far from, in fact.
He should retreat to put on pants, and Gepard will in a second. First things first: the bean elixir of life. Gepard smells it, savors it, closes his eyes and then takes a slow sip.]
It's good. Better than what my coffee maker can make. [His eyes open again.]
Let me go change. I wasn't expecting company, so I'm not exactly decent beneath, well. [He shrugs.] This. [The comforter, his shroud.] I'll be back.
[And he's trundling off to put on some pants, holding his comforter-skirt in one hand, and the coffee in the other.]
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Date: 2024-06-10 03:58 am (UTC)[Gepard closes his eyes when he takes a sip of coffee, savoring it like it really is the elixir of life. It really isn't fair that he's handsome.]
Sure, go ahead. I'll get breakfast set out.
[So while Gepard shuffles off to go put on a decent amount of clothing, Sampo sets out his breakfast for him, plates it up on his own dishes so that he doesn't have to eat it out of to-go containers. Two eggs over-easy, served on the crusty fried toast with a plentiful side of bacon. If Belobog weren't an iceball of a planet, he would have added some avocado to the toast, maybe poured him a glass of orange juice for the vitamin C. But citrus and avocados are unheard of in Belobog's post-Eternal Freeze, if they ever existed here even before that. One day, maybe Sampo could--]
[What's he thinking? Nothing important.]
[When Gepard returns, presumably fully clothed, he'll have a curious Sampo poking around a little of his apartment-- maybe taking a look at his windowsills, and the pots that line them.]
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