the ball of fire jets narrowly by the leopard's head - what once might have nearly skimmed beautiful black locks instead misses the fine curvature of an apex predator's skull, the mouth full of razor sharp teeth - and those same cutting eyes with all their ferocity staring him down. rob lucci is a force to be reckoned with. rob lucci in his hybrid zoan form is outright terrifying. still - sabo finds him beautiful all the same. he's sleek, lethal, long legs and arms curving into lethal claws. a tail whipping curiously behind him ( one that lucci seems to have an invisible copy of in his usual form, judging by the expression he's making ), and a predatory focus beyond what sabo would feel from him in a usual day.
he grins.
in truth - sabo had never fought ( or really - sparred with ) with this particular form. with them both knowing what these sessions usually led to, it seemed wiser to keep things... human. but there's a wild glint in sabo's eye - the knowledge of something that lucci himself doesn't care for or may not even know. and it was hard, really, to buy a gift for the world government's most lethal assassin and your enemy-turned-mate. and while something material did wait for them back at the small hotel room they'd holed up in for the night, he knew lucci would like this part much better.
sabo sheds his coat. his hat. his ascot. the vest goes next, revealing the suspenders beneath, and the true slim cut of his waist. flame flickers around the youngers gloved fingertips, and his pipe twirls in hand. he unbuttons a few buttons at his collar, just enough that the rustling breeze reveals a flash of that mating mark, and activates lucci's hunting instinct.
"ready?" they say the most important thing to do if you encounter an aggressive leopard in the wild is not to run, as it triggers those instincts and sends them chasing. yet sabo intends to do the opposite. his muscles coil as if to leap, and he watches as lucci's pupils dilate, watches as he salivates, stalking low and ready for the hunt. sabo's grin widens. "can you catch me?" he questions aloud, "or will i wi-" except sabo doesn't finish the sentence, because he takes off in a jet of heat, the propulsion of his flames carrying him fast and hard across the field. he laughs loudly, and doesn't even look to see if lucci's chasing him. of course he is. he was the meal.
of all the things lucci imagined when sabo had told him he had to follow him without asking too many questions, that he had a gift, this was decidedly not it. perhaps because he'd learned sabo cared about form, to a certain extent—a birthday present from him had to be some sappy bullshit, or at least he'd told himself to defeat the surprise when the revolutionary had effectively wished him happy birthday against his lips as he stole a lingering kiss. of course, the assassin did not have to wonder why he even knew the exact date. cipher pol had as much intel on the revolutionary army as the revolutionary army had on them, so that was definitely the least surprising part... even though it took sabo's initiative to remind him that it was, indeed, his birthday. clearly, he would have simply digested the information and moved on with his day, if only sabo did not have other plans.
plans that required him to shift into his hybrid form, to which lucci cocked an eyebrow in quiet perplexity, even if he indulged him. the coat and top hat came off first, then he deftly unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, peeling each layer until he was down in his white pants—never missing sabo's appreciative stare as he did—and then his skin began to twist out of its human shell a hybrid leopard, far bigger and more powerful, replaced it. maybe, lucci had thought, he wants to fight. he wouldn't have said no, the prospect of unleashing his beastly fury running through him like a jolt of electricity. but then, sabo had also started stripping, and his intentions veered towards much lewder horizons. so, a game.
‘you haven't told me what happens if i win.’ lucci growls, rows of impossibly sharp fangs in full display as he grins. tails whipping left and right in pure unadulterated anticipation, the leopard crouches, as if preparing to pounce. the truth is, he knows what will happen. his body is starting to feel it, in his taut muscles and restless chuffing. it's what allows him not to lose too much ground when sabo sprints off with the power of his flames. past a split second of realizing what the little shit had just done, lucci follows, his steps nearly soundless as he runs on all fours as would an animal—pupils fully dilated and powerful limbs stretching as the delicious high of the hunt mounts within him. sabo is not his lover anymore, nor his mate. he's played with his predatory instinct, and now he's the prey, getting closer and closer with the passing of minutes as lucci pushes himself to his limit and beyond.
is he letting himself get caught? oh, he's pissed.
he pounces almost mid-air, his full body weight trapping sabo against the hard ground. it was not easy, but easier than he'd anticipated. lucci growls deeply, saliva slicking his fangs as he chuffs heavily against his face. the mating bite is right there, and suddenly he perceives—confusion welling in his animal core. was this a hunt... or a mating ritual? his tail whips again, coiling around sabo's ankle. ‘did you let me win?’ glacial eyes narrow, his animal snout twisted into a displeased grimace. ‘i'll kill you.’