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It’s been a dogged, trying day at the firehouse. Not a single call has come in, not a single alarm has sounded. Well, one half-call came in, the police asking for medical assistance, but they promptly cancelled the call when it turned out they didn’t need any help. After that, Galo had flopped defeatedly on the pull-out in the break room, arm over his eyes.
“Wake me up when the city needs a fire department again,” he grumbles. Lio, sitting spread-eagle and half-awake at the table across the room, grunts in response. Aina, perched on the counter next to the coffeemaker and scrolling through something on her phone, mutters,
“We need something to do. We’re turning into bumps on a log.”
And yet, nobody moves. Lio stares at the clock on the wall above Galo’s supine form, watching with dull disinterest as the hands speed around its face. At some point, Ignis walks into the room and surveys the three of them with his hands on his hips.
“Go home,” he says. Lio blinks, his eyes so dry they hurt, and sits up enough to look at Ignis. “Your shifts are over, go home.”
Alright then. Lio struggles out of the chair, his joints stiff from so much inactivity, and stumbles over the couch to shake Galo awake. He wakes up slowly and blearily and Lio has to help him off the couch. They trudge out to the lockers with Aina and collect their things, standing around dully.
“That bad, huh?” Varys asks when he sees the three of them. Aina nods.
“Lio, I won’t ask you to set a fire because that would be bad—” Galo yawns— “but can you set a fire to give us something to do?”
“Trust me, I thought about it,” Lio grumbles in response, finally deciding it’s time to actually go home. He wanders through the machinery bay to the back where the personal vehicles are kept and kicks at his bike’s kickstand, missing it the first two tries and hitting it so hard on the third the bike nearly topples over. Behind him, Galo snorts. “I need to move, I feel so stiff,” Lio complains.
“Wanna hit the gym on the way home?” Galo asks, having marginally greater success with his bike. Lio grunts in agreement before he throws both straps of his duffel over his shoulders like a backpack and tugs on his helmet. The roar of his bike’s engine gets his blood flowing a little, and the startling speed with which it lurches forward when Lio presses on the throttle jolts him into consciousness. He zips off down the back roads, avoiding the main avenues that are sure to be clogged with cars and stoplights and pedestrians. He can hear the throaty thrum of Galo’s bike close behind him, even over the rush of the wind. His speed turns the hot July air cold against his exposed arms and slaps some energy into him.
By the time Lio and Galo both park outside the gym a few blocks from their apartment, they’re both fully awake and raring to do something with their bodies. “Spar?” Lio asks simply as they swipe into the building.
“Sure,” Galo replies. They throw their duffels into empty lockers in the changing room and peek outside. At this time of the day—approximately noon, but who’s keeping track?—the gym is almost dead and all the studios and MMA rooms are open, so Lio and Galo don’t bother with changing and just stride across the space littered with machines and taken an open studio. The floor is already plenty scuffed, so nobody will notice Galo and Lio in their firefighter’s boots.
“No fire,” Galo says once he and Lio are halfway across the room from each other and shaking out their limbs. It doesn’t matter that they’re still in their firehouse shirts and pants; the stuff’s designed to be moved and sweated in, anyways.
“No fire,” Lio agrees with a grin. He rolls his neck and kicks each leg a few times while Galo jogs in place and swings his arms in circles. Without warning, Lio launches himself towards Galo, but the distance between them is warning enough and Galo is plenty ready when Lio reaches him and comes sailing through the air. Galo sidesteps and Lio rolls onto the floor, springing up and lunging at Galo, his right hook whistling through the air centimeters from Galo’s nose. Galo counters with a kick to Lio’s knees and a one-two jab at Lio’s exposed chest. The Burnish dodges each of Galo’s attacks handily; they’re both still warming up.
Lio comes in for a few more exploratory strikes at Galo to probe his defenses and see where his weak spots are; each of Galo’s counters are moves to draw Lio in close and eliminate his advantage of speed and distance. In a grapple, Galo’s size and strength will always beat Lio’s barring the use of any Promare. They sink into the rhythm of the fight quickly and the first strike happens shortly after that, with Lio landing a solid kick to Galo’s solar plexus. It nearly winds the firefighter, but he grabs Lio’s calf and twists, throwing Lio bodily onto the ground and falling to his knees overtop him, trying to pin each arm with a knee, but Lio wriggles out from underneath him with catlike flexibility and dances away.
“I wish I had a sword, then I’d really kick your ass,” Lio taunts Galo from six feet away, breathing hard. Galo grins at him.
“It’s ‘cause you can’t fight in close,” he fires back. “Come here and wrestle with me and see who kicks whose ass.”
“I’d turn you into swiss cheese at two hundred meters with a bow,” Lio boasts, mimicking firing an arrow at Galo. He catches the imaginary arrow and snaps it in half over his knee and throws the pieces over his shoulder then rushes at Lio, catching him off guard and taking him down to the floor with a shoulder to the gut.
“Fucker,” Lio hisses as the air rushes out of his lungs in a great whoosh and Galo grabs for his wrists with one big hand. Furiously, Lio manages to tuck his knees to his chest and batter Galo in the chest with both boots, throwing the bigger man off him and scrambling backwards until his back hits the wall. Galo stands and strides towards Lio with inexorable speed, like he knows Lio can’t escape him, and something inside Lio doesn’t. He could easily jump up and aside from Galo’s telegraphed attack, slide neatly between his legs and pop up behind him, or lunge upwards and overpower Galo that way. But Lio doesn’t do any of those things.
He stays braced against the wall, watching Galo come towards him with a fluttering thrill low in his stomach, energy vibrating in all his limbs. Galo reaches out and grabs Lio by the shirt collar, hauling him up off his feet in one easy move and the demonstration of strength sends an electric bolt of excitement through Lio’s core.
“You’re not even trying,” Galo says with a lopsided grin.
“Maybe this is my strategy and you walked right into it,” Lio says breathlessly, looking down into Galo’s face—a point of view he only sees on certain occasions and at this point evokes a Pavlovian response from Lio’s dick.
“I know you better than that, firebug,” Galo says with a dark edge to his voice that tells Lio he knows exactly where the Burnish’s thoughts just went. Half of Lio so wants to give in to this deep and electrifying urge to submit to Galo’s superior size and strength, but the other half—Lio’s pride—refuses just to give up because he got horny. With one violent twist, Lio frees himself from Galo’s grip, drops to the floor, and slides between his legs, popping up and executing a flying two-footed kick that sends Galo sprawling face-first into the wall where he’d just pinned Lio.
“Knew you were gonna do that,” Galo grunts, his face pressed into the wall. Lio smirks back at him.
“Did you know I was gonna do this?” he asks, grabbing a handful of Galo’s ass.
“I can always tell when you’re horny,” he chuckles. “Your eyes get really big like a cat’s.”
Lio hisses his displeasure. Predictable is not something he likes to be. He lets Galo go so suddenly, Galo almost hits the floor, but he catches himself and whirls around to face Lio, one eyebrow cocked in question. Lio paces backwards, raising his hands into the guard position, silently inviting Galo in. Galo takes three measured steps forward, blading his body and raising his hands up into a position mirroring Lio. They take one, two, three breaths each, and then Galo explodes.
He charges at Lio with ferocity, throwing two haymakers right off the bat and coming in for a backhanded slap on the recovery of the second one. Lio is immediately put on the defensive, leaning heavily on his back foot to dodge the wild punches. He throws little jabs where he can, trying to get through the fearsome defense of Galo’s flying hands, but there’s almost nothing Lio can actually do with how intense Galo’s offense is. Through it all, he knows he should be concentrating on his strategy now since boxing was never his forte to begin with, but a decent part of his traitorous brain is all too keenly observant of how Galo’s skin is shining with sweat, how his brow is furrowed so handsomely with concentration, how the veins on his forearms and hands are standing out from exertion, how much bigger and thicker and more robed with raw physical power Galo is than Lio. It’s this fatal distraction that allows Galo to land a left hook on Lio’s temple; the crack of it sends Lio sprawling across the floor.
Galo instantly breaks “character,” dropping down to check on Lio, already apologizing and asking if he’s okay.
“Now we’re even,” Lio growls despite his head swimming, and twists around on the floor to lock his legs around Galo’s neck and pull him down into a jiujitsu-style grapple, which is definitely more in Lio’s wheelhouse. Galo chokes with surprise, grabbing Lio’s thighs to try to wrestle him off, but Lio has the leverage and bears down on Galo, working around him such that his knees are locked over Galo’s shoulders and he’s sitting on Galo’s back, forcing the man’s face down into the floor. “Do you yield?” Lio barks.
“No,” Galo grits out, hands still scrabbling at Lio’s thighs. If Galo stops and thinks a moment, he’ll figure out how to break the hold, but the shock of the move seems to have given Lio the advantage. And then Galo turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Lio’s knee—one that he can’t even feel due to the thickness of his pants—but the action provokes a well-conditioned response and Lio’s grip lessens enough for Galo to rip Lio’s thighs from around his neck and buck him off. Lio rolls over backwards, springing to his feet. He almost calls Galo out for the move, but now they’re even. His own words come back to haunt him.
They hit each other simultaneously in a furious tangle of limbs. Galo’s hand locks around Lio’s wrist, Lio twists out of it and hooks a leg around Galo’s, Galo shrugs off the hold and grabs for Lio’s elbow to twist it over his head, Lio twirls around and slams his head backwards into Galo’s throat, Galo chokes and gasps but doesn’t let go of Lio’s elbow, and then the wall is slamming into Lio’s chest and Galo is slamming into Lio’s back.
“Do you yield?” Galo growls low and feral in Lio’s ear. It sends a shiver of molten heat down Lio’s spine to his soaked core and he almost involuntarily flares, but tamps down on the reflex at the last moment, shivering between the rock and the hard place where he’s found himself. “Yield, Big Boss.”
Lio trembles, but his pride won’t allow him to admit defeat. Galo holds onto both Lio’s wrists with one hand, the other hand dropping down to Lio’s hip, gripping him assertively. Then Galo wedges one of his thick legs up between Lio’s, forcing him onto his tiptoes, and with that controlling hand on Lio’s hip, pulls him down onto Galo’s leg. The pressure and heat of Galo’s thigh against Lio’s hard, wet cock, even though several layers of fabric, pushes a breathy moan out of Lio’s throat. Then Galo slowly and forcefully rocks Lio’s hips back and forth, up and down his thigh, and Lio can’t help the pitiful little whimpers that escape him. The pressure parts his lips and drags his wetness around in his underwear, making the action a smoother slide.
“Look at yourself, Big Boss, brought down this low by the Burning Rescue.” Galo’s voice is earthquake-deep and right in Lio’s ear. He lets go of Lio’s hip just long enough to fist a hand in his hair and turn his head in the other direction so that Lio can see himself in the wall of mirrors at the other end of the studio.
Lio looks debauched already, face flushed from the fight, hair a mess even before Galo fisted it, pressed flat up against the wall and made to look tiny and fragile by Galo’s huge, muscular body crushing him there. Lio’s hips are moving of their own volition, frotting eagerly against Galo’s thigh; his little moans echoing through the suddenly-quiet space.
“You’re my prisoner now,” Galo murmurs, bending down so his lips brush the shell of Lio’s ear, his eyes locked with Lio’s in the mirror. “Where’s all that Mad Burnish pride, that fire?” He brushes Lio’s hair away from his ear so he can nip the cartilage and draw more noises out of Lio. “I knew it all along, you Burnish secretly want to be owned. You’d happily hump my leg until you came, wouldn’t you, hot little whore?”
Lio moans, mouth dropping open and cheeks heating even further. Galo’s words are making him impossibly wetter still; so wet the friction isn’t satisfying anymore. He mewls needily, unable to put his desires into words, but Galo seems to understand. He lets go of Lio’s hair and trails his hand—so big against Lio’s narrow little ribcage—down Lio’s front and works it under his waistband. The tip of his middle finger brushes against Lio’s hard and eager clit and Lio gives a full-throated moan, rocking harder into that ghost of a touch and grinding down further onto Galo’s thigh.
“Look and how good and tame you are for me when I give you a leg to ride.” Galo presses down harder against the head of Lio’s clit, forcing a sharp cry from him, and backs off into teasing circles immediately. “You’re mine, Big Boss. I own you. I’ll make you come from nothing but humping my leg like a little dog.” The words are dangerous, clouding Lio’s head with such a thick fog of arousal he can’t focus on anything except how dark Galo’s eyes are in the reflection in front of him and how badly he wants Galo to finger him. “Imagine if all the Mad Burnish could see their Big Boss now, tamed by the Great Galo Thymos and a finger up his pussy.” Galo pushes a single finger into Lio’s sopping cunt and presses down hard on his clit and bites his neck all at once and Lio comes, hard.
His orgasm deafens him to how loud he cries out; Lio is only aware of the physical sensations of his body convulsing between Galo and the wall, the feeling of Galo’s leg between his own holding him upright, and the sudden taste of Galo’s sweat-salty fingers in his mouth. He sucks on them through reflex alone, panting through his nose as he shudders through waves and waves of pleasure that are so hard and sharp-edged they almost hurt. When they finally fade, Lio is left feeling wrung-out, soaked through, beaten-up, and boneless.
Galo pulls his hand out of Lio’s pants and grabs him under the arms to physically hold him upright as he settles himself on the floor, leaning against the wall, and sets Lio between his legs leaning back on his chest. “Baby, you’re a mess,” he says with a soft chuckle, combing his fingers through Lio’s hair—wet with his slick and spit as they are—to try to rearrange it back into some semblance of its usual neatness. Lio is still off floating somewhere near cloud nine and his heavy head falls forward so that Galo can rake his nails up Lio’s scalp from the nape of his neck. The feeling makes Lio melt even further, and if he could’ve, he would’ve started purring.
“Do you want to shower here or at home?” Galo asks after several minutes of playing with Lio’s hair. Lio has begun to inhabit his body a little more at this point, and deftly reaches one hand behind him to slip his hands into Galo’s pants. Galo yelps with surprise, but the wetness that meets Lio’s fingers gives him his answer.
“Let’s go home, and I’ll reward you handsomely for my capture,” Lio says, tipping his head back on Galo’s shoulder to give him a sultry look.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Galo laughs. Lio pulls his hand out of Galo’s pants and sucks his fingers clean, watching with amusement as Galo’s pupils blow wide-open at the sight.
“Don’t think about it too much, hot stuff,” Lio purrs. “I’ll blow you in the shower.”
Galo jumps up so quickly, it startles Lio, who finds himself standing but only because Galo has picked him up. He blinks in surprise. “What are we waiting for?” Galo asks, turning and hustling for the door of the studio. Lio trails behind him, legs still a little coltish from his recent world-altering orgasm and only partial recovery.
The ride home is almost uncomfortable with how wet Lio is, and he can’t imagine it’s any better for Galo, but it’s two minutes tops before they’re home and Lio follows the trail of carnage (shed clothes) from the front door into the bathroom with amusement. The water is already running and Galo is standing there fully naked, looking frustrated that the water isn’t hot already. Lio eyes his dick eagerly—Galo got blessed with an insane amount of growth and a simple meta, so he can actually see that Galo is hard. He strips at a more sedate pace and when he peels off his shirt and finds Galo watching him with open lust on his face, Lio realizes it must’ve looked like a striptease to him. Lio cocks a hip and winks saucily, then steps into the still-tepid water. The temperature doesn’t bother him in the slightest; the Promare insulating him from temperature shock in either direction.
Galo hops in a moment later and washes himself furiously like it’s a matter of national security that he’s clean. Lio laughs at his intense concentration and at how long his hair is when wet.
“What?” Galo asks, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly.
“What’s the rush?” Lio asks back, massaging shampoo into his hair.
“I don’t want to be all gross and sweaty for you!” Galo protests and Lio laughs again.
“Take your time, big boy,” he purrs, tipping his head back to rinse the shampoo out. They swap positions and Galo rinses down. Lio waits until his eyes are closed, silently kneeling in front of him without putting a hand on him, and takes his clit into his mouth.
Galo shouts in surprise, instinctively bucking his hips forward into Lio’s soft, warm mouth. Lio puts his hands on Galo’s hips to steady him and Galo grabs two handfuls of Lio’s hair to ground himself. Lio bobs his head ever so slightly, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around Galo’s little cock. Above him, Galo groans, “fuck, babe, your mouth is god.”
Lio resists the urge to smile and sucks harder, flicking his tongue over the head of Galo’s cock, letting the clean and slightly salty taste of his arousal fill his mouth. Gently, Lio drags two fingers between Galo’s plush, wet lips and slips them inside his lover’s body. Galo gasps, his hands tightening in Lio’s hair as Lio strokes his fingers over Galo’s front wall, searching for the spot that drives him crazy. The second he does, Galo shouts and thrusts forward into Lio’s mouth again, and he rubs over and over that spot like he’s beckoning Galo’s orgasm forward, sucking and swirling his tongue as Galo comes undone very vocally above him. Lio can feel Galo’s body tightening around his fingers and with one final hard suck, Galo comes, his walls fluttering and clenching around him. Lio waits patiently, simply holding Galo’s clit in his mouth, as Galo rides out his orgasm, waiting until Galo releases his grip on Lio’s hair, signalling he’s too sensitive now.
Instead of pulling Lio upright, Galo joins him on the floor of the bathtub, looking sleepy and satisfied. Lio kisses him, pushing Galo’s wet hair out of his face as he does so, then reaches with one foot to switch the water from the showerhead to the tub and presses the drain closed.
“You’re too good to me,” Galo groans as the hot water rises around them. He learned early on that baths with Lio were a special treat, what with Lio’s unusual ability to keep the bathwater blissfully warm long after it should’ve cooled off. He arranges himself in repose against the sloped end of the tub, inviting Lio to lie back on his chest. Galo wraps his arms around Lio’s belly, hugging him close and pressing little kisses to his neck, cheek, and ear. “I love you,” he mumbles into Lio’s hair.
Lio brings one of Galo’s hands up to his mouth to kiss his palm. “I love you too.”
They soak and cuddle in the tub for a long while, until both of them are well-pruned and too sleepy to stay in the bath any longer. They dry off then brush out each other’s hair before falling into bed together, wrapped up in each other in complete contentment.