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“... I… have a question.”
Quincy opens his eyes. It's dark out in the woods, but the hot spring is comfortably illuminated by a circle of lanterns lit by the Sun Lord's fire. With a yawn, Quincy scratches one ankle with the other underwater and hooks his arms over the rocky wall behind him. The spring is natural, his own discovery, but he's tended to its walls and added submerged stone ledges for seating over decades of visits.
He lifts his head to spare Dante a questioning look through the wispy steam. The Sun Lord, nude save for a tightly wrapped towel holding his hair out of the water, shrinks in his seat. He clears his throat.
“... N, Never mind.” Dante's fingers grip the edge of his bench underwater.
“...” Quincy waits. He follows the line of Dante’s illicit glances for another minute and a half until he has enough evidence to make an educated guess.
“Something to do with pussy?”
Dante gives him a desperate, sickly look. He adjusts the towel on his head, tugging its knot tighter, and stares at the water's surface. “Like I said, never mind. It's offensive for me to–”
“I don't mind,” Quincy interjects. “But why not ask Eiden? He has the same equipment, and you two are… bedmates.”
The water sloshes against the rocky spring wall as Dante shifts and scoffs. “I'd hardly call us bedmates!”
Quincy dips his arms back underwater; getting chilly out. “... Right, okay. People who have sex. But not close enough to talk about it.”
Dante grabs his towel and makes to stand up. “Th-that's it, I'm leaving–”
So much for jokes. Quincy catches Dante's wrist and tugs him back down to sit. He's at least as strong as Dante, even if his muscles are packed behind more bulk. The Sun Lord is handsome, but he always looks a little dehydrated.
Quincy gives Dante a sincere look. “I’m teasing. Ask.”
Dante settles and fidgets for another minute before he can bear to open his mouth. When he does, he's quiet.
“... With… that fool, Eiden. How do you refer to his…” Dante gestures to his pelvis.
Quincy huffs and rubs water into his face. “That's a personal question. You'd need to ask him what he wants you to say.”
Dante's silence prompts Quincy's next line of thought. The forest guardian regards him with curiosity and turns to face him more fully.
“... What do you call yours?”
The look Dante gives him is answer enough: wide-eyed and panicked, it takes a moment to summon enough bluster for a shout: “I-I don't talk about it!”
Huh. The water around the Sun Lord bubbles and threatens to boil.
“... Well, that's the first problem.” Quincy chooses his words carefully as he leans, propping an elbow on the edge of the spring with his chin in his hand. “How do you ask him to touch it?”
Dante makes a face. Quincy raises a brow.
“... Has he touched it?”
Dante's nose wrinkles and Quincy's lips pull into a tight line. When he speaks, he tries to summon compassion, but it's not his specialty. “You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. But it might be nice to–”
“I-in my head, I think… cunt.” Dante swallows, rosy red as his hair from ear to chin.
“... Okay. Do you let him touch your cunt?” The hot spring bubbles, and Quincy narrows his eyes to read Dante's body language.
Dante presses a hand over his mouth like he's holding something in. He takes a moment before he shifts his hand enough to reply. “... rarely. I don't like it.”
“Why don't you like it?”
“The fool doesn't know what he's doing! He tries, and it's useless, so–”
“He won't know what you like if you don't tell him.” Quincy has a million questions now – how are they having sex, does Dante climax at all, where is his comfort zone, but he settles for just one:
“Do you know what you like when you're by yourself?”
Dante shuffles, crossing and uncrossing his legs underwater. He's staring at a twig floating by and looking like a lit explosive, ready to go off at any moment. Quincy can't remember what this feeling was like anymore, but he does remember… struggling. Ages ago. He injects as much calm passivity into his tone as he can muster.
“... Do you want me to show you?”
Like a stubborn dog, Dante twists his head sharply in the other direction to avoid Quincy's eyes. But then, to Quincy's relief, he inclines his head in assent.
“...” Quincy slides closer, closing the foot-wide gap between them until his thigh brushes Dante's. They're roughly the same height, but everything about the Sun Lord is slender and lean – and he's got about half as much body hair as Quincy. The forest guardian steals a look south, through the mineral-rich spring water, and finds Dante's red pubic hair neatly trimmed and short.
This close, Quincy can tell Dante is shaking. He sets a hand on his thigh and waits.
“Are you sure?”
Dante nods again, this time emphatically, but doesn't look back or down.
Quincy’s fingers slither along the inside of Dante’s thigh, snakelike until they brush his outer lips. He finds them already swollen, squishy to the touch, and blooming open. Dante tenses, and Quincy stills.
“Can I touch your cunt?”
Dante’s mouth opens and he chokes on his next breath. It looks like he intended to speak, but all he manages is another nod. Quincy sees the way his hands are curled into tight fists on his thighs.
“You can touch mine, too. Only if you want.” Quincy grants permission just to clear the air, but Dante's hand flies immediately to his thigh. He's probably fingered Eiden before; Quincy guesses he's looking for familiar territory.
Slowly, the Sun Lord looks back – first at where his hand rests on Quincy’s leg, then into Quincy’s eyes.
Quincy meets his gaze and rumbles, “Let me get you started, first.”
What follows is strange, nearly incoherent, and wickedly pleasurable. Quincy sneaks a finger down to steal slick from Dante's hole before he presses two fingers to the hood of his clit. He starts to rub slowly, up and down, taking his time until Dante gathers the courage to copy him. As he adds pressure and speed he watches Dante's jaw work, his lashes flutter, his tongue wet his lips. Quincy gently reminds the Sun Lord to slow down and coaches him to stroke, to dip his fingers back inside, to probe a little deeper.
It's not long before Dante's got the hang of it the way Quincy likes it, as quick a study in this as anything else. Quincy's starting to pant through his own stifled moans, and it's good as hell. He has four thick, calloused fingers at work on Dante's cunt now, leaving the Sun Lord grinding into his palm. The only proof of their efforts is the gentle slosh of water, but even underwater Quincy can feel how much Dante is dripping.
… And from the look of things – his eyes squeezed tight, toes curling – the Sun Lord is coming undone about all of this. Had he never played with his pussy like this? Never felt comfortable exploring?
That thought alone is sinful and sad and enough to push past Quincy's self-control; expertly, he presses and twists to wring a heady, squirming peak out of his unexpected partner. Dante gasps and bucks his hips to demonstrate the novelty of his pleasure, until his head collapses onto Quincy's shoulder and he nearly folds in half.
Dante’s hand pulls free of Quincy's mound to brace himself on his thigh, and he struggles to find his breath. When he starts shaking again, Quincy can't help but wrap an arm around his waist and draw him close.
“Was that alright?” Quincy asks.
“... –was fine, but– you didn't. Finish.” Dante's back to glaring at the surface of the water, though he doesn't shrug out of Quincy's hold.
“I'm fine; you did good. Seems like that was a lot.”
“...”
After a long moment of stillness, Dante shakes his head. He clears his throat and twists until he can face Quincy, catching a handful of blonde hair in his fist at his nape and pressing their foreheads together. He gives Quincy his best, heated, cocky smirk, and it's all Quincy can do not to chuckle at his posturing.
“I don't like to owe anyone a debt,” Dante proclaims, eyeing Quincy's lips.
His confidence is short-lived; the Sun Lord squawks like a fussy bird as Quincy grabs him by the hips and deposits him in his lap.
“Alright,” Quincy sighs. “But I’m not as easy to satisfy as you were.”
“Why you little–!”