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Takumi pushes his way past the thick trees, having long since strayed off the well worn path. The errant branches and brambles catch and tug at his long hair, and he mumbles profanities under his breath as he gropes blindly for the clearing that he was promised would be ahead. A sharp hiss escapes his mouth as a thorny branch slices a small cut across the pad of his left index finger — thank the gods that it wasn't his bow hand, or he might have to murder a certain Nohrian prince — and at the last low hanging bramble, Takumi finally stumbles into a wide, grassy clearing.
The Battle of Tilling Blades, Leo had called the slaughter that had taken place here, not that Takumi would be familiar with the decidedly Nohrian title. That was decades ago anyway, a small clash of Hoshidan and Nohrian radical villagers that fought over the borderline between their two countries. It was a stupid quarrel over what could have easily been an undiscovered spring had either side not ventured illicitly into the officially neutral territory. Neither side had been sanctioned by their respective rulers to fight, and ultimately, both villages were left maleless as all the men killed each other in this very clearing. The event was a large red smear on the tense relationship between Hoshido and Nohr, and it seemed to fit ironically well with the intentions that Takumi had come here with.
Prince Leo is standing in the middle of the clearing, arms folded behind his back and eyes turned up to the sky. It's not a question of whether the blond had heard Takumi or not, but a question of whether he will acknowledge the new presence or force him to announce himself. The grey haired boy decides he will settle for neither, and he swipes his bleeding finger absently against his tunic as he walks briskly to the other boy. Just as Leo begins to turn around, Takumi firmly kicks him behind the knee. The boy stumbles forward a few paces, a decidedly unprincely shout bubbling past his lips. A pleased smirk pulls up at Takumi's lips, and he crossed his arms in satisfaction as Leo whips around to glare at him.
"You're late, and that was rude," Leo tells him snippily, to which Takumi just snorts in a shamelessly unprincely fashion.
While he is no less royalty than the blond before him, he values himself as a warrior and archer before anything else. Being called a prince isn't something he has fought and bled for, and he only holds his title as he must. Leo, on the other hand, is his title, as well as a skilled swordsman and mage and strategist. There is an ineffable regality to him that Takumi can never hope for, but seeing it in the blond is mesmerizing. It was that aura that had made his hazel eyes linger on the Nohrian boy a moment longer than they should have, imprinting his image in his mind to taint and stain all his future thoughts.
Takumi doesn't remember when a sharp eye studying the movement of his sword arm and the wide set of his stance had turned into a deep set desire to peel the dark armor and fabric off those arms and plant himself right in the middle of that stance, but he remembers blocking sword strikes blow for blow with the curve of his bow, losing himself in the sweat that beaded down Leo's jaw and throat until the pair found themselves collapsed in the brush with their weapons forgone and their hands and mouths everywhere. Battle raged around them, somewhere past the trees and bushes that hid them, but everything Takumi remembers is either a blur or the acute feeling of fingers in his hair and teeth against his neck as a skilled hand pulled and tugged at the buckles of his clothes.
They fucked like they fought: heatedly, relentlessly, and in perfect sync. Takumi remembers bruises on his back from being shoved against trees and teeth marks on his collarbone that he has to lie to Sakura are cuts from the sharp hilt side of a sword; he remembers just as well the bruised lips Leo is forced to pair with bloodied teeth when the other boy bites down on his tongue too hard, and the claw marks along his abdomen that he had told his little sister were from the wrong end of a bird of prey. War could tiptoe a careful circle around them, but the two boys were not short of injuries.
Leo still glares at him, thin lips set in a scowl, and Takumi resists the urge to reach forward and cup his face, to pull him forward so he can smooth the expression away from those lips with his own.
"You're impatient and just as rude," Takumi repartees, a response that only makes the other boy's scowl deepen. With a roll of his hazel eyes, he pointedly holds his cut finger up the the boy's face. Leo's eyes almost cross as he attempts to focus on it. "If it weren't for your dumb idea of a meeting place, my poor fingers would be spared this unnecessary torture," he sniffs, pointedly turning his nose up at the blond. It isn't a gesture he is often caught doing, but Kamui's idiosyncrasies have become annoyingly contagious ever since his sister has returned to their side. He wouldn't mind it if Leo's lips didn't twitch downward every time he subconsciously mirrored the girl. He likes to ask Takumi how the girl is doing at the most unpredictable times, and that may be the only reason Takumi has stopped giving Kamui the cold shoulder snd started treating her like actual family. She's so painfully pure, he's found out, and nothing in him can fault the blond boy for wondering about the once sister who left him on the opposite end of a bloody war. The girl would have a field day if she found what her two brothers were up to behind everyone's backs, Takumi laughs to himself.
Leo snatches his wrist, tearing Takumi from his thoughts. Hazel eyes fly up to meet dusty amethyst ones, but Leo's gaze is trained intently on the archer's injured finger.
"At least it isn't your bow hand," he notes distractedly, brushing away the crusted blood over the cut. Takumi hisses softly as the material is painfully peeled off his wound and a fresh pinprick of blood oozes out.
"Hey!" the grey haired boy exclaims, "What was that fo—!"
He abruptly chokes to a stop when Leo puts his mouth over his finger, sucking gently at the bleeding digit. His pulse spikes and he feels a jolt of electricity arc down his spine. Goosebumps form along his skin at the feeling of Leo's tongue tracing the thin line of marred flesh, and Takumi swallows thickly.
"L-Leo," the grey haired boy mutters, hating how low and breathless his voice sounds. The other boy hums absently, distractedly, as he grazes his lips across the expanse of Takumi's palm, pressing another kiss on his wrist, right against his speeding pulse. Amethyst eyes flicker up to meet his, and there is a painfully familiar searing in his lower abdomen at the heavy, hungry, dark look in Leo's eyes. Takumi's fingers find the silky strands of the prince's hair like the action is second nature, and he wrenches the boy forward, planting his lips firmly on his. Leo responds immediately, grazing his teeth against his bottom lip and playing teasingly at the hem of Takumi's shirt.
He is acutely aware of every point of contact between them, just as much as he is completely dizzy and drunken and lost in the blond's presence. Leo tastes like some kind of Nohrian sweet that the archer only knows because it clings intoxicatingly to his tongue; he smells like ozone and parchment and the Thunder tomes that he always carries with him, battle after battle. Takumi restlessly fingers the buckles and ties of the prince's off-battle attire, the other hand intent on pulling and carding through his short, soft hair. When Leo leans back for air, chest heaving and eyes half lidded, Takumi doesn't mourn the loss of contact for long. His lips line the length of Leo's neck with open mouthed kisses, pausing at each instance to nip at the hot skin with a relentlessness that will leave marks. The rush of satisfaction at Leo's soft gasps is hard to suppress, and Takumi smirks against the boy's porcelain skin.
When Leo presses firm palms against his chest, forcing a little distance between them, Takumi petulatly lifts his gaze up to meet his other's.
"There was...another reason I called you here," Leo pants, blinking away the heavy cloudiness in his eyes. His pupils are still slightly blown — dilated and hungry — and the sight is thrilling. "Something about... It was about tomorrow's battle."
"Oh yeah?" Takumi asks, just as breathy and disorientated. He wraps both his hands behind the boy's neck, playing with the fine hairs at the base of his skull. Short hair is weird, something the archer was never really used to seeing, but he thoroughly enjoyed messing up Leo's. "And what was that?"
A small frown pulls down at the blond's lips, and his fingers flay out across the surface of Takumi's chest. He is thinking hard — hazel eyes are trained shamelessly on his lips as he bites at them, an absent nervous tick of his that drives the grey haired boy crazy — and Takumi lets his eyes drift shut, leaning their foreheads together and losing himself in the feeling of soft hair between his fingertips. After some indiscriminate length of time, Leo's hands slide off Takumi's chest, resting against his hips, and the archer opens is eyes to half lidded amethyst and a lazy smirk.
"I fear I've forgotten," the blond whispers slyly. "I suppose I've asked you out here for nothing, then, Prince Takumi."
Takumi snorts softly, rolling his eyes at the other boy. "Yeah, nothing," he echoes, leaning closer so that their lips can brush with every word spoken. "But that can easily be made up," he adds lowly, and the spark of lust in Leo's eyes send a hot trickle of desire down his spine. His fingers hook over the belt around the prince's waist as a lascivious smirk forms on his lips. "What do you say, Prince Leo?"
The blond licks his lips in anticipation, easing one hand under the hem of Takumi's shirt and ghosting his nails over the bare skin; the touch sends tingles and shocks across his nerves. Leo meets the archer's smirk with one of his own, tugging away at the strings that hold up Takumi's own belt with a fluid ease.
"I find myself in pleasant agreement," he murmurs huskily, eyes fluttering shut as he pulls their mouths together once more. Takumi finds that it's easy to forget the war that divides their sides when searingly hot flesh and cool night air are all that fill his mind; he kisses Leo back, hard.