((Warning for a very slightly erotic tone in some places. Don't read it if there's anyone virtuous looking over your shoulder!))
A crisp darkness that preceded dawn settled over the Goblet, doting the wards with the last vestiges of a cold night. The sky stood cloudless, and the moon had long since hidden away. Dew settled on the walls and windows of the Astral Agent headquarters, glimmering by the lamp light that bathed the yard. The well-kept grass sparkled like something from a tale of old. The sun would soon come to drink it up but for now, the property basked in an almost crystalline sheen.Â
The quiet of the hour was disturbed by the sound of steady, hasty footfalls and the pattern of exerted breathing. The pattern told of four feet and breaths taken for two. Sure enough a pair of Highlanders emerged from several yalms down the street, both male, tall and broad. They wore naught but pairs of fitted black shorts and ankle boots, both soaked through with the sweat that covered them. One was paler in complexion than the other, sporting low-cropped hair and striking blue eyes. A neatly trimmed growth adorned his jaw, framing a rather good-looking set of features -- drenched with sweat as they were. His nose flared slightly with each inhale, only for his lips to part for the controlled expulsion. He was no stranger to exercise.Â
The other Highlander was of a similarly massive build, though more sun-scarred. Red hair was pulled back into a condensed tail at the back of his head with the sides shaved low. While not as neatly good-looking as his running partner he bore a rough and worn handsomeness to him; well featured, yes, but more rugged than classic. Even his body bore a defifcit of neatness compared to the other. While the black-haired Highlander's musculature was tidy (though no less large) and firm, the redhead possessed a brutal looking, hardy bulk. It affected the distinct patterns of speckled hair on their torsos, black and red respectively.
A sudden, mutual glance between the two ignited competition, and the last leg of the jog suddenly became a race. Their speed doubled, and concern for their technique went out the window. A sprint had burst forth. In the mad scramble to enter under the archway of the Agency's yard, neither of them could truly determine who had actually won, leading to a round of deep, juvenile laughter. A fat waterskin was waiting for them on the grass against the house's wall; the redhead swiped it up first. He put it to his lips and chugged greedily, spilling quite a bit down his chest -- much to the chagrin of the other Highlander. "Oi, Berrod!" He complained, "If yer gonna waste it all, least lemme get my whet first!"
Berrod lowered the skin and aimed a smirk at the other. Bright green eyes flashed in challenge, and he beckoned. "If y'want it, come get it, Caleb." To accent the taunt, he shook the sloshing vessel. Caleb didn't respond with anger, but with a slightly exasperated snort. "Am I gonna have ta kick yer arse again?" Berrod's only response was another shake of the skin.Â
Caleb was the slower of the two, but it was not evident by the way he moved. His left leg planted forward and allowed him to push off from his right, sending him on a crash course with the other with an arm outstretched toward the waterskin for good measure. Berrod had no time to dodge and instead braced, holding the skin as far away from the other man as possible. The collision was far from catastrophic but still significant, sounding a sharp clap of skin and a chorus of grunts between the two. They may as well have been aldgoats fighting over a mate; demonstrating a critical part of the Highlander stereotype in the wee hours of morn. It took some grappling, manoevreing and strong-arming, but Caleb eventually managed to snag the waterskin from the other.
The result had left them both panting, having perhaps endured more exercise than they had during their jog. Caleb drank deeply, finishing the remnants of the cool liquid in very little time. As an answer to the taunting from before, he tossed it back toward Berrod, who reflexively caught it with a scowl. "Bastard," He grunted. The insult didn't quite reach his eyes. Â His eyes, however, seemed to do some reaching of their own. It was just a for a moment, but they flitted down and traced a drop of sweat that had dripped from the man's chin. As it traversed down Caleb's musculature, so too did those twin greens follow the path of taut flesh. The drop perished as it soaked into the waistband of the man's shorts, making Berrod suddenly aware of what he had done. He lifted his eyes to see that Caleb had been watching his gaze, and sought to hastily look away. "Awright, break's over. We should get back on it."
Caleb's only response was a slightly raised brow and a nod. Without fuss he turned and made his way to the archway over the yard's entrance. It was easy enough for him to reach it and begin a lengthly set of pull-ups. Berrod sauntered over to lean on the column at the side, folding his arms and doing his best not to look in the other man's direction. "Don't lemme catch ya skimmin' now," He teased. Caleb growled something at him that sounded very much like an expletive, but kept going until the muscles of his arms, back and shoulders were swollen and corded. When he finally dropped, it was with an ostentatious presentation in front of the other. "Yer turn."
Berrod had counted every repetition and was determined to outdo him, even by just one. He worked nigh vindictively, enjoying the spirit of competition just as much as he enjoyed the screaming burn that ran through his arms and shoulders. He could feel when Caleb took a look at him, those blue eyes left pinpricks on his skin wherever they landed. After significant exertion he let go and landed on the floor, mirroring the proud display Caleb had provided for him. "How's that?"
"Yer a case an' a half," Caleb snorted. "Always gotta try an' one up me."
"Ain't ever gotta try hard," Berrod shot with a playful sneer.Â
"Yer askin' for it," The dark-haired Highlander warned. Berrod only moved closer, eliciting a wrinkle of Caleb's nose. "Gods, ye stink."
The words made Berrod suddenly aware of it. With a sharp pair of sniffs he did realize that he exuded a sweat-borne musk that made the air around him a little thick. It wasn't -that- bad though -- or so he thought. "I ain't that ripe," came the casual protest, "An' you ain't exactly a bed o'roses either." He stepped closer, leaving but a pair of ilms between them.Â
Berrod's actions caused Caleb to frown and warily glance around them. "We're outside, Berrod," He warned. The redhead would not be deterred, however. It was out of the norm; usually he would be the one championing for care and discretion when they were not alone together. It seemed that this morning he was ready to throw caution to the wind. "Yeah, I know."
He paused and breathed deeply, leaning his nose close enough into Caleb's neck for his breaths to cool the sweat. "Hrm. It really ain't a bed o'roses, but it ain't so bad either." His tone waned husky and low. Caleb still remained apprehensive, still looking about -- down the street in particular. There was only resistance when Berrod's hands grew bold enough to seek the waistband of the soaked shorts. "Not here."
It was only when Berrod pulled back he realized that they had been pressed together -- the sound of their bodies pulling apart gave an almost comical, somewhat tearing sound , like wet leather peeled off a wall. "Fine, fine. I'll behave. Gonna finish yer sets with that pointin' out in the road, though?" With a juvenile smirk, he pointed down below Caleb's waistline, where the Highlander had very clearly responded to the attention he had been given. "If y'do it, I'll do it too. Gotta one-up ya, after all."
Caleb's laugh was loud enough to send several birds skyward, which drew attention to the blue haze of imminent sunrise in the east. "Yer like a damn kid," He chided. "I'll wait a bit, I ain't doin' that!"
Berrod's smirk had grown into a full on grin. "Suit yerself, I'm gonna do it anyway."
It was so that sunrise met the two fellows; one leaned on the entrance column shaking his head while the other did rather inappropriate pull-ups in fits of breathless cackling. The poor retainer who was passing by had left scarred and scandalized beyond all reckoning.Â
All was well again, for a time.
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