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Damien's hands still shook with suppressed rage when he maneuvered his key into the lock, fumbling for a moment until it slid in properly. He turned it a quarter, and was surprised it caught already, pulling the bolt back from the doorframe. He was certain he'd locked his apartment when he'd left for work, and with this thought a wave of adrenaline slammed through him. Only years of training caused him to keep a clear head between simmering anger and sudden fear of who might be hiding away in his home.
Being the one person who had brought down a crooked politician and a special tactics squad of the police, who blasted five buildings in District 13 to hell, and who was finally entrusted with the supervision of District 13's reconstruction – to say it made Damien some enemies was the understatement of the decade. Apart from Le Président, no politician felt comfortable around him – which, given his current job, translated into a lot of arguing and begging on Damien's part to even get audiences with the decision makers in city planning and public utilities. Everyone had a few skeletons in their closets, even Damien himself, but politicians grew paranoid at the mere mention of his name. The police, while very glad that the corrupt DISS had been disassembled and brought to justice for their crimes against fellow officers, never let Damien forget that his best friend was a copkiller too. And the rest of the country interrogated him in front of hundreds of cameras, whenever he failed to hold a deadline he'd promised (the western quadrant of District 13 should have been reopened for habitation last month, but it would take yet another week to finish the electric rewiring of two blocks), or demanded to know how he could have allowed the bombing in the first place.
So really, it could be anyone in his apartment, gun at the ready and aiming square for his heart. Wishing he was still wearing his bulletproof vest, Damien pressed his back against the wall next to the lock, drew his service weapon, and carefully swung the door open with a little shove of his left hand.
The door opened noiselessly. No shots rang out.
Damien inched his way inside, carefully checking the hall closet, the small bathroom, and behind the entrance door, before moving further down the hall to make sure nobody was hiding in his bedroom or kitchen either. Only then did he notice that a couple of legs hung over the armrest of his couch.
Even though he instantly recognized the cargo pants and sneakers, Damien couldn't keep himself from clearing all corners of his living room before he put his gun back into its holster.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Leïto noted from where he was lying on the couch, staring at Damien's ceiling.
"Breaking into my apartment?" Damien tried for annoyed, but knew he'd missed by a mile. The adrenaline drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving him both relieved and infinitely tired. Seeing Leïto, the little shit, lounging on his couch like he owned it was so much better than having to suck up to people who could make his job hell all day. Finally, there was an honest conversation to be had. No lies, no angles, no games.
"It's not my fault you didn't give me a key," Leïto laughed. In his mind Damien's door and lock probably wouldn't ever apply to him, because they should only keep out guests who were unwelcome. "I was talking about you overseeing the rebuilding of my district."
Damien frowned, not at all liking the topic. He read and heard enough accusations each day; he didn't need his best friend to join the chorus. "Okay," he replied warily. "What changed your mind?"
He watched Leïto toe off his sneakers and stand, walking right up into Damien's personal space, shaking his head as if the answer should have been obvious. "I still never get to see you. Before all this, you were undercover and I was running from the police. Meeting up would have gotten both of us caught. But now?"
"I'm trying to clean the district up–"
"– while I'm sitting on the sidelines, waiting, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do with myself."
There was quite a bit of anger in that statement, and it shocked Damien to realize that Leïto had accomplished his life's mission. For the past years, Leïto's ultimate goal had been to see the wall fall. Now that it had – what else was there to do? No education, no job history, no money. The fame coming with being part of the D13 operation didn't do him any more favors than it did Damien. Not that outsiders' opinions had ever mattered to Leïto; he always found his own way. Only his way had ended in that control room three months ago, with five crime bosses, two keys, and Le Président pushing buttons.
No, that couldn't be right. Leïto could easily find himself an occupation. He still had influential friends in the district, and a man as clever as him surely would find ways to make profit off his athleticism at least. But Leïto had come to live with his anger directed at a specific target, his energy spent to avoid prosecution and using his intelligence to outsmart his tails.
"You mean you're bored." Damien grinned with the insight.
Leïto's eyes narrowed, as if this was a less acceptable fact about himself than being public enemy number one.
"All your life, you've been on the run. Suddenly no-one's chasing you, and you're bored," Damien continued undeterred when Leïto pushed closer and all but growled a warning. With memory flashes of a rooftop and a bomb's code, the adrenaline came flooding back as well. Damien's instincts screamed at him to fight. He tensed, readying himself for a painful blow that was sure to come in their proximity if he didn't strike first. But he grinned, looking forward to it even if he'd be sporting bruises for weeks. Hell, he'd love to see the district council's faces if he turned up to their meeting all bloody and swollen.
"You want me to chase you, Leïto?" Damien whispered. He lifted his hands up to his shoulders, as if surrendering. "Or do you want us to fight?" He shoved Leïto back a step, not at all surprised to see his friends moving right back in, reclaiming the lost space.
"No," Leïto bit out, "neither." And suddenly Damien was being shoved, until his back hit a wall and something clattered and broke as it fell.
Had it been anyone else, Damien would have already ducked, swept his feet out, punched his solar plexus, or kneed him in the groin. But this was his best friend, who sported a twisted little smile which told Damien that this wasn't about violence, or pain, or dominance.
Well, maybe a little.
The point was… Damien had no idea what the point was, but Leïto had one, and he'd make sure Damien would understand eventually. In the meantime, Damien played along, catching Leïto's right wrist and twisting the arm until Leïto had to turn with it to avoid broken bones. Spinning them around, Damien had his friend face-first up against the wall for a second. Then Leïto's left elbow almost connected with his nose and Damien had to let go in order to dodge it. With arms and legs they attacked and deflected, knocking over an end table and almost killing the flatscreen TV with a particularly badly aimed letter opener.
Damien never even thought about pulling his gun from its holster at his side.
Leïto jumped and rolled behind the end table, picking it up to poke at Damien with the table legs, until Damien kicked it into pieces. It was exhilarating to really break something, to feel the shock of it travel up his leg and spine, to hear the crunch of wood splintering. Damien's frustration and anger drained away, working it off.
They sparred for what felt like hours, neither of them pulling their punches… much. Damien shook his hand, knuckles burning where he'd hit the back of the couch when Leïto had managed to roll sideways. He checked his best friend over: red patches of skin where he'd gotten a hit in, some of them would turn blue in a short while, but not a single drop of blood. He knew he probably looked the same, except he also felt bathed in sweat.
Damien was still trying to catch his breath as he saw Leïto pounce, throwing both of them to the floor and landing heavily on top of Damien. Whatever air he'd regained left his lungs again in a rush. He gasped defenselessly while Leïto secured his wrists over his head and leaned in.
"Do you give up?" Leïto mocked, squeezing his wrists pointedly.
"I thought." Damien gave himself a few quiet seconds to pant and get back enough strength to actually talk. He could still smell coffee on Leïto's breath. "I though you said you didn't want to fight."
"I didn't," Leïto agreed easily. "But you did. Came home from work all wound up, wanting to tear something into pieces… Thought I could work with that, get you where I wanted you all along."
Damien chuckled, remembering how he'd felt when he'd unlocked his front door. Yeah, he'd been ready to kill someone. "And where did you want me?"
He didn't know what to expect as an answer, but he was pretty certain he hadn't expected Leïto to just roll his hips against Damien's, pressing their cocks together.
"Fu–" The moan ripped out of Damien unbidden, and he became almost dizzy with the suddenness of his arousal. Leïto's continued hold of his arms demanded, but the lazy undulation of his hips corrected it to a not-quite-polite suggestion.
There was no mistaking the question when Leïto stared down at him, eyes completely black and mouth slightly open in a grin. Damien pondered it for all but a second, raised his head, and captured Leïto's lower lip between his teeth. Never in the past three years would he have considered dismissing an offer like this, he certainly wouldn't now.
Leïto didn't need any further permission. He forced Damien's head back down against the floor and took charge of the kiss, prying Damien's teeth open to release his lip and accept his tongue instead. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Damien thought Now, after all the shit we've been through, but the rest of him was too busy holding on.
The wait apparently made Leïto all the more enthusiastic. He transferred Damien's wrists into one hand to have the other free to push their pants down. Knuckles brushing against his hard-on sparked some white flashes behind Damien's eyes, and he had to suck Leïto's tongue hard for a moment, to stop the continuous fucking motion, which would have made him come in about two seconds and ruined the whole thing before it really started.
He could feel himself inching back from the edge, so he released Leïto's tongue in favor of a few lungfuls of air.
Except suddenly it was skin against skin, bellies and cocks and balls and the top of their thighs, and Damien was right back there again, a millisecond away from shooting off. He couldn't— They had to— "Stop!"
Damien had no idea if Leïto had really scrambled up and away from him as if he'd been burnt, or if his over-excited brain just had trouble keeping track of movements not involving his cock. Hands finally free, he squeezed the base of his dick viciously, further staving off his orgasm.
Only then did he look up at his best friend. A couple of steps away, Leïto stood with his pants around his knees, erection flagging, looking rather ridiculous. Damien toed off his shoes, wriggled out of his pants and stood, quickly pulling his shirt over his head as well. Completely naked at last, he walked up to his friend and wrapped his hand around Leïto's cock, smirking when it jumped at his touch.
Leïto frowned, obviously confused over the mixed signals he was getting.
"I'm not twenty anymore," Damien said by way of explanation with an apologetic shrug. "We have to make this round last." He gave Leïto's cock a couple of tugs, letting it grow fully hard in his hand. Pulling on it, he led them into the bedroom.
As soon as he understood where they were headed, Leïto undressed as quickly as he could while being guided by his dick; his clothes became breadcrumbs leading from the couch to the bed. Damien didn't care, because the devilish smirk was firmly back on Leïto's face. This time, when Leïto kissed him, it was with intent. Both hands cupped Damien's jaw and fingers curled into his neck. Their lips pressed together softly, and Damien was finally allowed to do some lazy explorations of his own behind Leïto's teeth and along the ridges on the roof of his mouth.
Despite the slower pace, Damien could feel the urgency building again. He pushed Leïto down onto the bed and climbed on top, wedging a knee between Leïto's legs. Leïto's hands stroked down his sides and clawed his back, breathy little moans escaping him whenever Damien bit into a particularly sensitive spot on his neck or chest while tracing along the many lines of ink.
Damien rut into the crease of Leïto's hip, creating delicious friction for both of them, but now that the adrenaline of their playfight had abated, it wasn't nearly enough.
"Come on," Leïto ground out, grabbing Damien's ass and pulling him in harder, faster.
"Yeah, I—" Damien made a point of drawing back and catching his friend's gaze. He knew Leïto wouldn't lie, wouldn't agree to something he didn't want to do. Still, Damien wanted to see every single emotion flitting over that dark, handsome face. "Can I fuck you?"
Surprise, a trace of wariness quickly overshadowed by trust, and then those black eyes fluttered closed for a second. It seemed to cost Leïto quite a bit of energy to open them again, but he nodded, and all the blood currently not located in Damien's dick rushed through his ears.
Shit. Did he even have any condoms left?
Damien crawled up to reach into his bedside drawer, straddling Leïto's chest. He almost hit his head against the headboard when Leïto took advantage of the position and suckled on the head of his cock.
"You're killing me," Damien groaned. His stomach flipped when Leïto let go with a wet pop, and innocently grinned up at him.
Forcing himself to focus, Damien rummaged through the drawer until he found the box of condoms in the back, and emptied its contents onto the bed: one lonely package.
"Not much of a boyscout, hm?" Leïto laughed.
Damien swatted at his arm. "I don't make a habit of jerking off with a condom on." The lube he produced from under the pillow however was almost full – a new tube he'd bought only a couple of days ago.
Not wanting to have to bother with it later, Damien rolled the condom on immediately. Then he stretched out over Leïto again, licking a path between his nipples and down his ribs. When Leïto started to roll over, Damien stopped him with a quick kiss. "I want to see you." He'd spent quite a few nights beating off to the memory of the intensity in Leïto's eyes when they'd fought on the rooftop, when Leïto had leaned down over him, forearm across his windpipe. No way was he going to pass up the chance to see it now.
Leïto quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. "Get it on then, I'm waiting," he teased, and raised his hips until their erections bumped together again.
Damien just glared, but uncapped the lube and squirted a good bit onto his right hand's fingers. Leïto's lack of patience for foreplay was a shame, but maybe they'd get to do that another time. On the other hand, Leïto probably counted their wrestling match as foreplay.
It didn't take a mindreader to know what would come next, and Leïto had never had trouble putting two and two together. He spread his legs, allowing Damien to settle between them, and drew his knees up to give him easy access.
Damien's heart pounded wildly in his ears, and his eyes were locked on Leïto's, but all he could feel was the puckered muscle under his fingertips. He spread the lube over it with light pressure, then pushed more firmly until his index finger slipped in. Immediately, Leïto's hips started moving. Damien took it as agreement and added another finger, scissoring them briefly before he realized that Leïto didn't need nearly as much preparation as he'd have enjoyed giving.
And his friend was very vocal about how Damien needed to hurry the fuck up, catching Damien's cock and lining it up with his own ass when Damien didn't comply quickly enough.
"You can never just walk, you always have to be running," Damien complained, grabbing Leïto's wrist to return his hand to Damien's back, and quickly slathered the condom with lube. He didn't give Leïto a chance to reply, stealing another kiss and then just leaning their foreheads together while he slid in until he bottomed out.
Tight heat, which spread from his groin up his back until it was almost too much. The smell of musk and coffee and sweat and latex. Damien wanted to stay in this exact moment forever.
Until Leïto impatiently rolled his hips again, and it was even better. The friction cranked up the heat another notch, igniting electrical sparks in Damien's belly like a balloon on hair. He kept biting at Leïto's lips, chasing the faint bitterness of coffee in Leïto's mouth, and wrapped his slick hand around Leïto's hard-on. With each shove of his cock Leïto panted what vaguely sounded like "yes" and "there", fingers digging into Damien's shoulder blades and neck or pulling him in for even fiercer thrusts.
Suddenly Leïto tensed up, stilled, come spurting all over his chest and belly. The look of ecstasy on his face – mouth open and eyes closed – and the way his muscles clenched all around Damien's cock, pushed Damien over the edge as well. All coordination had left him, hand merely squeezing the last of Leïto's orgasm out of him, while they shared breaths, noses almost squished uncomfortably together.
A long time passed before Damien could force himself to move, pulling out and disposing of the condom. He handed Leïto a few tissues from the nightstand, and didn't care at all when they were tossed back into the general vicinity of the waste bin, but landed a couple of feet off their mark.
"They're gonna be disgusting to pick up later," Damien noted, and flopped back down on the bed.
"We can always just add to the pile later, instead?"
Damien turned his head, and saw Leïto watching him out of the corner of his eyes. He made it all of a second before a stupid grin spread all over his face, worsened by the devious answering smile on his friend.
One could probably say, generally speaking, that Leïto was better at creating messes than cleaning them up.