The sound of clanking filled the small barrack room, Lyon watching every movement as Menenius slowly removed his gauntlets, placing them on a rough chair set against the wall. His hair dripped with rain, plastering his normally neat tail to the back of his neck, and Lyon found himself unable to look away from the way the droplets made their way down Menenius’ skin.
“Enjoying yourself, are you?” Menenius looked sidelong at Lyon as he unbuckled the straps at his ribs, sliding leather through buckle and finally shrugging out of the ornate breastplate.
“Aye, the view ain’t too bad. Shame about the noise though.”
Menenius smirked, thin-lipped. “I believe that’s usually my line.” He set the breastplate aside against the wall, stormwater dripping from it onto the utilitarian stone flooring, and turned his full attention to Lyon, pale gaze raking up and down the length of his body as Lyon reclined on the thin bunk, shoulders against the wall and legs slung obscenely off the edge of the bed. “I do hope you’re enjoying soaking that bunk through.”
“Well, I don’t wear too many clothes, see, so there ain’t much to get wet on here.” Lyon patted the top of his thigh, then grimaced. “Alright, maybe you have a point. Suppose I could use to be out of these pants.” Lyon cracked his neck, not taking his eyes off Menenius. “Wanna help?” He lifted his hips marginally, eyes twinkling.
“Are you a child, that you can no longer remove your own clothes? Or perhaps it is that you’re too old to manage it. All those years on the battlefield finally taking their toll?”
Lyon guffawed, slapping his thigh. “Aye, maybe you have the right of it after all.” He watched Menenius fastidiously strip off his shirt, soaked at the shoulders and sides, and drape it over his breastplate - he was easy on the eye, even Lyon had to say that for the snake - and then he went to one knee, dextrous fingers going to work on rain-soaked bootlaces.
“Listen, uh-” Lyon shuffled towards the end of the bunk, sitting upright and leaning forward, both hands on the mattress edge, “while you’re down there, eh? Give an old man some reprieve from wet pants?”
Menenius glared up from under his brows, removing first one boot and then the other before deigning to respond. “Tell me again why I even entertain,” he waved a hand around vaguely, “whatever this is between us?”
Lyon sat back on one hand, the other cupping the not insignificant bulge in his pants, his burgeoning erection made all the more obvious for the wet fabric. “You got a taste for what’s down here, that’s why.” He tipped his head back and regarded Menenius with lidded eyes.
A snort. “Out of all the things I’d say about your cock, I’m not sure that’s quite it.” Menenius closed the distance between them and rested one arm across Lyon’s thigh, both knees on the floor as he leaned in. “Perhaps ‘too large for your own good’ would be an adequate descriptor. One hint of arousal and all your brain cells immediately get starved.” He rapped on the back of Lyon’s knuckles with his own. “Now, I believe you needed some help with these?”
“Oh, uh. Yeah. I mean, yeah I did.” Lyon swallowed, a slow smile spreading across his face. He moved his hand out of the way and Menenius obliged, unfastening and pulling down his pants in one smooth movement to reveal Lyon’s bare cock, studded down the underside with barbells and topped off with a ring in the head that glinted dully in the barrack lighting. It flopped back down against Lyon’s thigh with a meaty thwap, and Lyon smirked to see that Menenius could barely take his eyes off it.
“Going commando on the battlefield? Why am I surprised.” Menenius’ eyes flicked up to meet Lyon’s and he held the gaze as he took hold of that ridiculously sized cock with one hand. He spread his other hand across Lyon’s belly to hold him still, then ducked just enough to suckle at the head of Lyon’s cock. It was big enough that he had to open his mouth more than usual, and Lyon couldn’t help but try to roll his hips against Menenius’ hold, try to stuff his cock down his throat with a hard movement.
Menenius made a noise of disapproval and narrowed his eyes, lip curling as he stared Lyon down. “Don’t make me restrain you further, you mad old dog. I’ve a mind to feel this thing inside me, but I’m as likely to change it if you don’t behave.”
“It’s a good job you’ve got your lips around my fucking cock, boy, or I’d take more umbrage at that tone.” Lyon let his head fall back, though, the words falling from his lips like spent embers; for all the fire behind them, his heart wasn’t in it, and oh fuck yeah, it’s hard to keep barking when you’re plugging up a hot, sweet mouth with your cock, and especially one so talented as Menenius’. Say one thing for Menenius sas Lanatus, say that he’s got a serpent’s tongue and a way with those lips as to silence the gods themselves.
“No more talking, now.” Menenius trailed his bottom lip over the ring piercing Lyon’s cockhead, eyes fluttering shut as he let his mouth fall open, drawing in Lyon’s cock inside in one smooth movement.
Lyon groaned as his cock hit the back of Menenius’ throat with still inches to go, and gripped onto the edge of the bunk to stop himself from thrusting forward, from forcing himself to breach an unwilling throat, though he knew well enough how Menenius could take it. But he was intent on taking things at his own pace, and Lyon was also well acquainted with the particular brand of cruelty Menenius could inflict upon a person if he was displeased - not that he would ever complain about a little bit of blood to spice up a blowjob, but fuck he craved more.
Menenius, as though he was a fucking mind-reader, angled his head and all of a sudden Lyon’s cock was enveloped by hot, wet tightness as it slipped past tonsils and down into Menenius’ throat with nary a gag, but plenty of thick, sticky saliva to ease its way.
Lyon’s hips twitched, but before he could move even an inch Menenius curled his fingers and dug his nails into the hard flesh of Lyon’s belly. Lyon clenched his own fist, but contented himself with sliding his other hand into Menenius’ damp hair, tugging strands enough from the severe tail to knot into tightening fingers, and all thoughts of blood and spice were lost as Menenius sucked him like his life depended on it.
The ridges of his barbells caught on every movement, sending flashes of fire to Lyon’s spine as Menenius did that thing with his serpent’s tongue where it moved somehow, rippling against his piercings with a hot little jolt over each one.
Lyon gripped harder onto Menenius’ hair, and in a prodigious exertion of will, thumped the bunk twice. “Lad, if you don’t quit that right now I’m gonna be in no state for you to be feeling anything else, on account of all my seed being down your throat.”
Menenius’ eyebrow raised, but he detached himself from Lyon with a flutter of his eyelids and the most raw, debauched sound Lyon’d ever heard. “Very well,” he replied, voice absolutely wrecked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then pushed up off the floor using Lyon’s thighs as leverage.
Before Lyon could do anything else, Menenius straddled him and, with one firm hand on his chest, shoved him down flat onto the bunk.
“Oof, warn a guy next time,” Lyon groused, but it was hard to be angry when his cock was nestled warm between Menenius’ arse cheeks. “There’s oil in the drawer,” he flung out an arm towards the standard issue strongbox at the side of the bunk.
Menenius levelled a look at him down his nose - his long, ridiculous fucking nose - and leaned over to rummage in the drawer. He came back up with the bottle, the normal shit they gave everyone for weapons maintenance, but it sure did the trick for fucking and no mistake, and unscrewed the lid, tipping out a good measure into his palm.
Lyon watched him slip a hand round and felt the nudge of knuckles against his cock as Menenius prepped himself with his usual efficiency. His cock was hard against Lyon’s chest and, frankly, in the perfect place for Lyon to take hold of it, slender and long and somehow pretty, and run his calloused finger over the tip; dip down into the slit and - ah yes, that got a reaction, even if it was just a narrowing of the eyes and a sharp inhale - and press harder than would be comfortable, blunt fingernail just on the wrong side of pleasure.
Menenius’ hips rocked forward, his arm stilled four fingers deep inside himself and his mouth fell open, just a little, before he got control of himself for long enough to remove his fingers. He poured out more oil over Lyon’s cock and then sank himself down onto it with the low, long sigh of a man starved.
“Fuck, I could watch you do that all day.” Lyon’s voice was husky, now, and he took a tighter grip of Menenius’ cock, squeezing it even as he rolled his hips upwards, all leisurely like, as though he could do this all day.
“Neither of us has the stamina for that much effort, ah, as you well know.” Menenius dropped his weight forwards, both hands coming to rest on Lyon’s pecs as he began to move. He set a punishing pace, riding the full length of Lyon’s cock like it was nothing, though they both knew well the amount of time it’d taken for him to be able to take it all the way, let alone as fast and hard as he was.
Lyon fucked up into Menenius as best he could with all that weight on his chest, snapping his hips up to grind the pierced head of his cock harder against Menenius’ prostate, marking every little huff of exertion, every pant and stifled swear; the way Menenius’ hair fell around his face; how his thighs clenched and his calves tightened, holding Lyon’s thighs in the vice grip of a seasoned Magitek pilot; the way his cock jerked and leaked in Lyon’s equally hard fist and ah fuck, there it was - that catch and stutter of his voice, normally so cool and collected and so fucking infuriating - that, and nails digging into Lyon’s chest hard enough to leave red and white moons among his hair were all the signals he’d ever receive, and Menenius was spilling thick ropes over Lyon’s hand and onto his belly, thighs quivering and jerking, grinding down harder onto Lyon’s cock as he rode through his orgasm.
And then, as though that wasn’t enough on it’s own to send Lyon tumbling over the edge, Menenius did that thing where he clenched his arse tight as a virgin’s, squeezing Lyon’s cock until he nigh milked the seed from him, Lyon coming with a hoarse growl, teeth bared around Menenius’ name like the feral beast that he was.
Without ceremony, Menenius drooped forward, pressing his forehead - now wet with sweat as well as rain - against Lyon’s in a rare moment of intimacy, all lidded eyes and smiles made private by the curtain of his hair surrounding them. “I fear this may be turning into some sort of addiction,” he murmured, “I wonder if the Medici happen to carry any cures.”
Lyon laughed, voice raw and gruff. He lifted his unsoiled hand and threaded his fingers into Menenius’ hair, much darker than his but no less quicksilver for it, palm cupping against his jawline. “Not sure I’d want to have any part of that, if I’m honest with you. But do feel free to investigate, if you’re really itching to be free of me.” He rocked his hips to punctuate the point.
“No more of that,” Menenius groaned, “I’m going to be sore enough without you pushing it.” He smiled, though, and with a little movement, took Lyon’s lips in a deep, slow kiss. He was always languid as a just-fed snake after sex, and Lyon had to admit that he might have a little addiction going on as well. He held Menenius’ face in place and lost himself in the kiss, the scent of sex and stormwater in his nose and a satisfied, tired weight spreading throughout his body.
They could get clean later; for now, there was only this.