[PSoH] Waters and The Wilds | D/Leon | R

Another first timer drawn out with this challenge. I'm not entirely sure I managed to stay strictly to the spirit of the challenge, but generally happy with the result? Comments and critics both welcomed equally!

Title: The Waters And The Wild
Author: Nix
Series: Petshop of Horrors
Pairing: D and Leon
Type: m/m
Rating: R
Challenge: Afterglow
Summary: Nothing with D ever went normally, this was not an exception.
Disclaimer: Petshop of Horrors, and all characters therein, is owned by Matsuri Akino. This is a fanwork done without knowledge or permission of the owner, and is in no way generating any income whatsoever. (Not mine, not canon. Le sigh.)
Notes: Completed in 50 minutes not counting spellcheck, grammar tweaks, and a post completion bout of nerves.

A couple days ago, Leon would need to have been plastered beyond all common sense, or at the very least, nearly beyond functional use of the English language to have even considered the idea of sex with any man, much less the Count. The slippery bastard was the living personification of every possible peeve Leon had. Not to mention, a few he hadn't even known he had until that first Chinatown investigation.

Now, having even met that unlikely state of near-deadly intoxication, he certainly would never have laid a single cent on finding himself lying in the grass in some remote-as-hell part of Ireland. Naked, sweat cooling off his skin and feeling more peaceful than he ever had in his life... and somehow next to the bane of his existence... who was looking, as usual, far less rumpled for the whole affair.

He knew how he got there all right. Could take it right on down police style, chronological order and detailed cataloging of every double-damned bad decision in a row.

It started with D announcing he was going to be leaving his jurisdiction for two weeks. Rather he put it as 'taking a comfortable vacation in the countryside of the old motherland of this country in time to visit in time for Beltane for a special visit from an old friend of the family.' Leon hadn't bought that then, and didn't now.

So he tagged along, listening to all the weird stories about the country, the Faerie, and Beltane. D was off talking bout them like they were more than some old fashioned fairy tail and Chris just soaking it up. New country, same old tune.

He didn't see what all the fuss was about the Maab chick D met up with (Sure, she was hot, but a little weird about the face in some way Leon couldn't quite pin), but he sure as hell didn't trust the goat-thing she gave him. Not any more than the weird goat-thing they left at the pet shop.

Except for the nightmare of the goat-things breeding and creating a small, pissy army of Leon-hating animals, it hadn't been bad for a trip out with D. The weird stuff was over with, no one was dead, and just heavy one strange animal that kept looking between the two of them. Leon swore it was sniggering. He should have known better.

Later that night, he'd followed D out of their modest little hut the locals had given them at the Count’s request. Chris was sound asleep and who knew, or in Leon's opinion, really cared where the goat-thing was.

One moment, D had been giving the driest talk about the bonfires on the horizon and the tradition of mating on Beltane and the different forms that have happened here. Leon couldn't quite keep his mouth shut when it got to the 'occationally of the same sex part.' It was weird. It's STILL weird dammit. Even if now...

"Come now detective. It's a common truth of all the more intelligent animals. Even the dolphins you regard so highly are built for - and enjoy - same sex relations." That school teacher semi frown, a long finger waving in the air. "As are humans, I'll have you know.."

"That's animals." He had scoffed, "You got the human part wrong. We got something more with evolution."

He couldn't quite define it, but something cracked around that perfect smile. Maybe a flash of anger, a little cunning... maybe something else.

"Let me teach you about the human animal then, dear detective." What happened after that was all too fast.

When D's long nails traced down his throat, he hadn't been able to move - just been able to think that all of this was wrong. After his jeans vanished the same way his top did, even that abandoned him. It was all he could do to keep breathing, keep moving, just reduced to more, now... deeper.

If he HAD bet on bedding the infamous and effeminate Count, he'd have lost hard earned cash on who was going to be in what position. Now that, he wasn't sure how it happened.

Those hands, feather-light sometimes, snake-like others... long, knowing caresses, burning away the protests, the reservations, anything but this one, amazing building pressure and heat. He remembered kissing back, returning it all in force. He couldn't quite remember when he bent back and submitted, but somewhere in there, he did.

That monotone voice above him, speaking in whispers into his ear in some language with more of a ringing sound than English could ever manage. Somehow, he didn't think they were sweet nothings or the heady, guttural talk of sex. He remembered answering in little sounds and entreaties to a god, any god.

That moment when he realized he was going to get laid, he swore it was bloody well going to be on his terms. Instead, he remembered fingernails digging into the dirt, muscles trembling and blinded by the want of it. He remembered feeling like an animal, all need and instinct, all this immediate, amazing pleasure, and never, ever having felt more free in his life.

Like always, he'd just moved the way the Count's gentle hand pushed him, and was left a little numb and lost in the wake of it.

He'd have thought he'd be sore now, all considered.

He'd always felt exhausted afterwards, but never felt like he could just sink into the earth around him, or drift off into the clear night sky. No, it'd always been "Wham, Bam Thank you ma'am. Going to get a snack, want anything?"

Another part of him snatched up and changed without even the courtesy of asking. He pushed himself onto one elbow, intending to give the Count a piece of his mind... and stopped dead, goosebumps shivering down his arms.

One look from D caught him and whatever stupid plan he'd come up with died immediately. Those eyes were just barely open, mismatched irises bright under thick black lashes. At least this time, the laughter in them was a gentle sort. He lay back down, teeth grit and pretending his body didn't feel those memories all over.

Leon wanted a cigarette badly, but if anything was left in that battered pack, it was somewhere in the vicinity of his missing clothes. Instead, he just rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.

"This changes everything, don't it?"

"To the contrary, dear detective," Those eyes closed, and all Leon was left with was that vague empty smile. "I've found that hardly anything ever changes at all."

Leon hated that smile. It always made him feel like he was missing something.

---

Notes: Quote and title is Yeats, since it fit the setting. My research was limited by the time of the challenge so Celtic-philes, I'm sorry about anything I misunderstood. The goat thing is not another T-chan ^__^ Make your own mythos.