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To the untrained ear, the gentle creak of the window being opened would’ve easily been missed. To Gepard, it was the pin drop that shattered his silence.
“Koski.”
A somewhat hulking form stopped in its tracks, midway through the window. Its eyes - his eyes - caught the moonlight just right before his wrist buckled, and he tumbled to the floor.
“That’s the name, don’t wear it out. . .eheh. . .”
Originally, he had planned to pop by, watch Gepard for a bit (to ensure he was sleeping soundly, mind you), leave him a vase of fresh roses, and be on his merry way. He had no choice but to alter his plans now; drag his ass off the floor, say something that would make his favorite captain blush, and then launch himself right back out the window.
That plan was also foiled the moment the two men made eye contact. Gepard had sat propped up on one hand, the thin blanket pooling at his hips. It wasn’t shocking that the man slept shirtless, not at all. It was just that as Sampo’s eyes scanned further down, the more skin he saw, and the more skin he saw, the faster he realized that Gepard slept naked and was currently naked barely six feet away.
“It is two in the morning. Why are you- no, how did you even know I was here?” ‘Here’ being the spare bedroom in the apartment above his sister’s workshop. He’d needed her company, knowing he could shuffle into her room for comfort as he’d done so many years ago.
Now sitting up properly, Sampo started to weave his little web of lies. “Ohh, don’t you worry about it. It isn’t odd to assume you might spend some time with your dear older sister, right? And knowing my luck,” he continued, shifting to stand, “of course I would guess you were here. Not the elaborate scheme you thought it was, hm?” Sampo clasped his hands together and tilted his head oh-so-slightly, quickly concealing a wider grin as Gepard mirrored his head tilt.
Though he’d gone to bed quite early that night (11 pm was something unheard of for him), Gepard felt as if the three hours of sleep he’d had had only served to further drain him. More than once, the arm he leaned on threatened to buckle. Both mind and body felt fuzzy and he fought to keep his eyes open. “But why? I don’t- I don’t have anything for you to steal. Shoo!”
A hand flicked towards Sampo aimlessly and fell to the bed mere seconds later.
“Hey, I’m not always stealing! I barter and trade, I dig up my own relics, I buy things from others with credits just like any other person would do.”
“. . .whatever. Close the window, ‘m cold.” Like that, Gepard slumped back into the bed. He didn’t bother with pulling his blanket up nor looking to make sure Sampo actually left.
Unless Sampo’s memory was failing him, this was the only time the stalwart captain had ever let his guard down in his company. He didn’t know what to do, but - was there even anything to be done? Just crawl out the window, close it like he’d been asked, and wander off into the night. Just mind his own damn business and go .
He didn’t want to, though. All of those disgustingly domestic daydreams that he refused to humor were cropping up in unison to bombard his heart of what could be, if he just grew a pair and made a move.
It was like a miniature version of Sampo sat on his shoulder, a version of himself that had never met those radical, chaotic beings, had never been instilled with the idea that the truth of the world was a joke. He was frighteningly persuasive.
With his breath trapped in his throat, Sampo took a few wide steps to haltingly pull the window shut, as if he were doing it one-handed while he hung onto the windowsill outside. Sampo waited to see if Gepard would roll over and check. Gepard did not stir. He waited longer, to see if the other man was simply baiting him to make a wrong move. Now, it appeared that Gepard had fallen back to sleep, considering the rise and fall of his chest.
A strange thought wheedled into Sampo’s mind. If Gepard didn’t feel safe around him, he wouldn’t have dared to fall asleep, right? If he felt safe then, well. . .perhaps he didn’t absolutely abhor the idea of being around Sampo.
Still holding his breath, Sampo tiptoed over to the bed to pull the blanket over Gepard’s chest, tucking it just under his chin. It was thin, though, and there was no way that it was enough to keep the man warm.
On his other shoulder sat a version of himself that Sampo figured was his future self, worn and jaded after having been toyed with far too many times. That version told him to drown any hope he had of getting closer to Gepard, and to go stand in the snow plains as punishment. He, too, was relatively persuasive.
Sampo laid himself at Gepard’s right, taking care to not tug at the blanket. The bed dipped with his weight and Gepard abruptly rolled onto his other side, shuffling in place until he was facing Sampo. “. . .’val, go sleep ‘n your own bed. ‘m not a pillow.”
Whether he was talking in his sleep or teetering on the edge of consciousness, it was enough to slap some sense into Sampo. He had no right to be here. Gepard needed his sleep so that he could continue to be Belobog’s shield. He needed to be left alone so that unnecessary stress wouldn’t affect his work flow, his ability to concentrate.
“I’ll smother you with my pillow if you don’t leave, sis.” To add to his threat, Gepard brought a hand up to his pillow and pried his eyes open to glare at the person in front of him. Instead of being met with the equally blue eyes of his unruly older sister, he saw nothing but green.
“ Don’t smother me, I can explain - you seemed cold! Your blanket is thin! And I’m keeping my hands to myself!” Sampo spluttered. He instinctively raised his hands to shield his face as he fully expected the attack - but just like it had played out earlier, Gepard didn’t appear to care very much, if at all.
“I don’t have the energy to put up with you, Sampo.” And yet, his eyes remained open.
Were they on a first-name basis now? Because if they were, that was a massive wrench in his plans. “Right! Well. You don’t have to do anything anyways.” With the way Gepard stared at him, those icy eyes tiredly darting across his face, something in Sampo’s chest stirred. “I just came to check up on you, anyways.”
Gepard huffed a quiet laugh, eyes momentarily drifting closed. “Check up on me? What’s your conclusion, then?”
Sampo tentatively reached out to pull the blanket up over the blond’s exposed shoulder, barely grazing his skin with his gloves. “My conclusion?” He echoed. “My conclusion is that you’re lonely. Even hearing my name is usually more than enough to cause you to tense up, but here you are, nodding off while I’m inches away.”
“. . .is that all?”
“You’ve pulled the blanket off your shoulder twice, now. Should I fix it again? I know your hand is creeping towards me under the blanket, too. Oh, and-”
“Enough.” The firm tone of Gepard’s voice was practically negated by the warmth rising on his cheeks, visible even in the dim room. “You’ve checked up on me. Are you going to leave, now?”
Though he had done what he’d intended, Sampo found himself quite unwilling to just up and disappear. “Do you want me to?”
It took Gepard’s exhausted mind several seconds to comprehend the question, his eyes widening as he mulled it over. “Not. . .particularly.” Not at all, actually. Sampo was radiating so much heat that Gepard felt like he was laying in front of a fireplace, dying out after a long day of burning. It did his weary body wonders.
“Then I’ll stay.”
Sampo pulled the drowsy man closer to rest against him, one hand slowly rubbing his back as the other rested against the other’s chest. In that position, he could bury his face in Gepard’s hair and press kisses so light that they probably weren’t even noticed.
“Gloves. . .” Gepard mumbled, muffled. Sampo had managed to forget he was fully clothed whereas Gepard was bare; it felt almost unfair. He discarded his gloves and resumed his actions, lasting all of about ten seconds before he was sitting up to toss aside his jacket. “Come under here.”
“You’re not, ah, wearing anything though,” Sampo said quietly.
“Mn.”
Was that an agreement? A disagreement? A cut-off yawn?
“Wouldn’t that be crossing a line, Gep?” Wouldn't that be pushing his luck?
One eye open, Gepard grunted and began tugging at the blanket to spur Sampo into action. “No, ‘s fine.”
Sampo (almost) never needed to be told twice. The moment he was under the blanket, Gepard was scooting closer until he’d tossed an arm over Sampo and shoved a leg between his too, tangling the two men together.
A thought made its way to the forefront of Sampo’s mind. “When’s the last time you slept properly?”
“Mm. . .Monday? No, Wednesday.”
“It’s Friday. You haven’t slept in several days.” The slightest bit of irritation bled into his voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were on something; you’re pretty different when you’re sleep deprived, Captain.”
“Not different,” he mumbled, shifting his hips closer. “Just myself.”
Sampo stifled the disbelieving laugh bubbling in his chest. “So you mean to say that while you’re yelling at me and trying to arrest me, twisting my arm and tripping me when I run off, you actually just want to be near me?”
“. . .mn.” The blush was back in full force.
That - Sampo would take that one as an agreement. “You have me now, don’t you?”
Gepard didn’t answer. Wouldn’t.
Sampo captured his lips and stayed there, a hand now tangled in the blond locks. There was only a moment’s hesitation before the kiss was returned as Gepard pressed forward slightly, seeking more but not moving any faster. He let Sampo dominate the kiss. He let Sampo nibble on his bottom lip, let him do as he pleased with his tongue. It was the breath of fresh air he’d needed.
His lips were tingling by the time Sampo started moving down to mouth at his jaw and then the side of his neck. If it weren’t for the fact his skin there was so sensitive due to constantly being covered, Gepard would’ve missed the way he mumbled into his flesh.
“What’d you say?”
“. . .I said I could kiss you for hours on end and never tire of it.”
Gepard cleared his throat loudly, visibly embarrassed. “If you insist.”
“Oh, I do. And you smell so sweet , did you know that? Every time I walk past you, it’s all I can think about.” As if to prove his point, Sampo pressed his face into Gepard’s neck and inhaled deeply. “For a captain, your skin is quite soft.”
The praises continued as Sampo slowly moved down, not wanting to miss a single spot with his eyes nor his mouth. A few light marks were sucked into Gepard’s neck, but they would be covered by his uniform, existing only when he undressed.
Light nips on his collarbones, a barely restrained bite to the meat of his shoulder, an almost hungry lick to the hollow of his neck. Sampo rested his hands on Gepard’s waist as he sat up to appreciate the way pink splotches cropped up on the captain’s skin, interrupting the scars to leave a trail of love. There was a lot more to go, admittedly.
“Something wrong?” A somewhat timid voice floated up to Sampo.
“What makes you think that?”
“You’ve just been sitting there, staring.”
“Admiring, not staring. Didn’t mean to stress you out, Gep.” Smiling, Sampo leaned down to distract the blond with a few more kisses. “As much as I’d like to spend all night praising every inch of you, you need your sleep.”
Gepard looked as if he was about to disagree and say that no, he could forgo another night of sleep if it meant soaking in Sampo’s affection. Instead, he reached out for a hand to hold, blinking slowly. “Are you leaving?”
“Wh- leaving? Aeons, no!” Sampo was quick to shake his head, fast enough to mess up his bangs completely. “I just meant that I don’t want to rile you up too much more. If you’re alright with it, I can, ah. . .well. I can help you with, um. Something.”
Sampo Koski did not mince words. Sampo Koski also did not get flustered, so now, why was he tripping over himself? He could and would say anything to anyone if there was something he could get out of it; that was just how things went. Unfortunately, Gepard did not appear to fall into that 99.9% of people that Sampo had no issue speaking with.
A small chuckle floated up to flick at his ears which, to his dismay, felt a bit warm with embarrassment. Oh, he would never live this one down. “Help me with what, Sampo? Help me fall asleep?”
“More like tire you out but, ahem. Same difference, yeah?” Strangely, his confidence wavered as his hands ever so slightly slid down from waist to hips, from hips to thighs. He had done this before - he knew how to do it, so why was he so hesitant? “I can promise you the best night of sleep you’ve ever had, no strings attached. A special ‘service’ for my one and only, if you will.”
Though the blanket still covered his lower half, Gepard picked up Sampo’s message quick enough. That long, pink tongue swept out more than once to wet the taller man’s lips. Deft fingers were lightly pressing against his thighs, waiting. Hoping. “Please don’t feel obligated to do so. . .”
Sighing quietly, Sampo shook his head. “I’m more worried about whether or not this will make you uncomfortable, Gepard.”
“. . .it won’t.”
In the midst of pulling the blanket away and rearranging Gepard’s legs, both mouths uttered a faint ‘thank you’ in the same breath.
Just as he’d done above, Sampo left a trail of kisses and bites downwards, purposefully avoiding what Gepard wanted most in favor of tasting more of him. A heavy hand wound its way into his hair the moment his lips wrapped around the tip of the blond’s half-hard length. He wouldn’t mind swallowing it down now to feel him grow in his throat. There was a lot that Sampo wanted, and very little that he could have right now.
He sank his head down without much thought, but pulled away just as quickly at the loud groan Gepard let out. “Hey, now. I know it feels good, Gep, but your sister is just down the hall, isn’t she?”
The tension in his body told Sampo that he’d completely forgotten about their surroundings, wholly focused on the one touching him. If there wasn’t the looming risk of being clobbered with an electric guitar, he would’ve laughed at the poor man’s reaction. He settled for taking Gepard back down to the base again, peering up as best he could to see a hand attempt to muffle the noises.
His mission was to make Gepard cum hard enough to pass out in a post-orgasm haze. Simple enough, but. . .Sampo was a greedy man. He couldn’t help but pinch the delicate skin of Gepard’s inner thighs to feel them twitch and squeeze his head. He couldn’t help but hum softly as he bobbed his head up and down, tongue flat against the underside of the cock in his mouth. Sampo was greedy, and a part of him wanted to make Gepard shake and scream .
A steady pace was found soon enough as Sampo relaxed further onto his front, only propped up on his forearms. He noted the way Gepard’s hand slowly fell away, dropping to his side; barely muffled moans had dissolved into drawn out sighs. After a few minutes, those sighs too melded into something softer - Sampo wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted that Gepard fell asleep mid-blowjob, or if he should feel proud that he could relax the man so much. Just as he paused, though, Gepard shifted awake.
“Nnh. . .why’d you stop?”
Sampo snorted half-heartedly. “Why did I stop? You fell asleep , Gep! I was going to let you rest.”
Behind his hand, Gepard mumbled something that brought his blush down to his chest. A pinch to his thigh prompted him to repeat it audibly. “I said you can keep going even if I’m asleep. Please. . .?”
Sampo wasn’t sure if he’d heard that right. Surely, Gepard hadn’t meant what he said, right? Because he would really have to trust Sampo for that. “I. . .are you sure? Really sure?”
Blue eyes suddenly flared at him with a ferocity normally reserved for the fragmentum. “I meant what I said, Sampo. I’ll probably wake up again anyway.”
There was no denying the dark urge of desire that flared up in his gut as Gepard let his eyes slip closed. Could they. . .do it again, in the future? Whenever, wherever, would he be allowed to please the only man he had eyes for? Even with explicit permission, guilt twisted in his mind. Perhaps it would be better, safer if they just pretended. But right now - this wasn’t pretending.
Sampo did as asked and gladly went back to his task, one hand resting on a thigh as a comforting anchor, his other hand gently fondling Gepard’s balls. Every so often, the blond would jerk his hips upwards, as if it were a reflex; he’d fallen asleep almost instantly, though, and Sampo had to keep himself from choking.
It was a little difficult to tell how close Gepard was because Sampo had nothing more than the subtle tensing of his muscles to go off of. Conscious, the younger would probably have his fingers knotted in Sampo’s hair to ground himself and control the pace. All he could do now was whine in his sleep and furrow his brows. Was he dreaming of someone else? Or was he still dreaming of Sampo, in some other position?
There was no telling. The only thing Sampo knew for sure was that his lungs were beginning to burn with how consistently he was pressing his nose into Gepard’s flesh, and that a salty-bitter taste was blooming on the back of his tongue, a few drops at a time. Having his mouth filled so long left him feeling thirsty.
Sampo hummed in slight dissatisfaction and, almost instantly, Gepard came with a grunt locked behind his teeth. His body trembled slightly and it compelled Sampo to soothingly caress the blond’s hips, running his thumbs back and forth. If Gepard wasn’t exhausted before, he surely was now. Sampo pulled off slowly but was quick to dab away the drool around his mouth and on Gepard, quick to wipe away the sweat that had gathered with a rag he’d procured.
When he tucked Gepard in, it was like nothing had ever happened. He risked a trip outside the bedroom to look for an extra blanket; thankfully, Serval was a bit messy, and Sampo easily found something plush to drape over Gepard.
He wanted to stay and keep him warm, have that blond hair tickle his nose as he held him close, a firm body to keep him grounded at night when his mind floated off and took part of him with it. He wanted to hear that steady voice in the morning, an octave deeper from sleep. Perhaps he would rise first to brew coffee the way Gepard liked and see him off to work.
Domesticity had no place to take root in Sampo’s life. He left a few rose petals on the night stand though, and hoped that their sweet, weak scent would convey his feelings - whatever they were.