Bermuda

For a while after that, the feast of pleasure continued.

A voice that didn’t even feel like his own echoed in his ears like a lingering resonance.

Ah—, mm, hn....

It hadn’t lasted long, yet the scent of blossoms clung to his memory like an afterimage. At some point, he could no longer tell whether his legs were soaked with water or something else.

It no longer mattered either way.

Hu— Hugo, ah—.

As if confirming something, they kept calling each other’s names.

...ha, Leo.

And in answering, they realized just how deeply they wanted one another.

It was a conversation of bodies that could never be dismissed as mere pretense. Even if they hadn’t truly become one, it was one of the few moments where everything had been laid bare.

In the end, when strength left his legs and they trembled, Leonardo barely managed to stop Hugo from lifting him further.

If he hadn’t, both of them would have been swept somewhere irreversible. Around him, Hugo often lost track of time—and Leonardo didn’t want to become a poisoned cup in his hands.

More than anything, the speed at which he was falling into this unsettled him. He feared he might not be able to stop something that could ultimately harm them both.

“...Thinking?”

The emotion that burned as fiercely as everything he had suppressed—would it still hold even at the very end?

“Leo.”

A cool touch tapped lightly against his forehead. Leonardo, who had been staring blankly at his reflection, snapped back to himself.

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

A soft hand followed, brushing his hair with a towel.

Behind him stood a broad-shouldered man.

And that man was drying his hair.

“You looked out of it.”

“...Ah. Yeah.”

This time, it wasn’t even something asked of him—it was something Hugo had done on his own.

Leonardo touched his forehead where the cool fingers had been, then glanced at the man reflected in the mirror.

A shirt that had been soaked and dried into wrinkles. Torn cuffs where buttons had come loose. Dark blue hair falling over his forehead.

He no longer had the composed dignity of the commander Leonardo remembered—but even so, there was a natural cleanliness about him that didn’t match someone who had just gone through what they had.

Except for the reddened lips Leonardo himself had left behind.

“......”

Leonardo stared quietly at the traces he had made, then awkwardly changed the subject.

“I’m just... a bit tired.”

“Tired?”

The man’s previously gentle expression stiffened. The hand that had been moving slowly came to a stop.

Leonardo, who had almost nodded along, suddenly realized he had said the wrong thing.

“No— I mean, not tired, just...”

Nine out of ten reasons he had been dazed were because of Hugo—so it wasn’t entirely wrong. But he didn’t want to provoke Hugo’s excessive concern. And besides, he had assumed he would have the advantage in this kind of situation...

He didn’t particularly want to admit he had been overwhelmed instead.

Rolling the answer around in his mouth, Leonardo finally lifted his eyes in a sideways glare.

“It’s because of you.”

To be honest, his hips and thighs felt sore, as if they had been struck repeatedly. Right after a match, he had pushed himself further—muscles he didn’t usually use were now protesting.

And on top of that, fighting in water had never favored him.

Water had poured into his nose and mouth, his limbs restrained—and the man behind him had taken even his breathing hostage.

If you want to breathe—like before...

Kiss me.

The fragmented memory resurfaced—his lips seeking Hugo’s for air.

He hadn’t even been able to stand properly, one foot barely touching the ground, and even the timing had been controlled.

If there was one thing he had learned from that experience—

This man was extremely dominant.

“You wore me out.”

“That’s an honor.”

Unlike the memory, Hugo’s lips curved into a faint smile. His tone carried a subtle lightness as his hand moved more gently through Leonardo’s hair.

“Then I suppose I should take responsibility.”

Leonardo fell silent for a moment.

To others, Hugo might seem cold as ice—but with him, he sometimes showed these unexpected sides. Gentle, playful... and when it went deeper, filled with quiet, consuming desire.

Each time, Leonardo was surprised by how many faces this man had—and yet he found himself indulging in the thought that he was the only one who could draw them out.

And it seemed Hugo was thinking something similar.

“You only allow that with me.”

Depending on how it was heard, it sounded less like a confirmation—and more like a warning.

Did he realize how much possession lingered in the hand resting at the back of his neck? The faint pulse of something unseen sent a shiver across Leonardo’s skin.

But he said nothing.

As if it were natural, he let himself be handled, and Hugo—taking on the role willingly—devoted himself fully. What should have been a simple act of drying turned into something closer to lingering touch.

Before long, his hair was nearly dry.

Wrapped in a soft towel, Leonardo’s expression still carried faint dissatisfaction—but he melted into the comfort anyway. Absentmindedly, he played with the tie in his hand before shifting the topic.

“Aren’t you going to be late? Is it okay to stay here like this with me?”

Hugo’s blue eyes moved briefly to his watch. Even with a temporary portal, it would be tight.

But he didn’t show it.

“It's fine.”

He answered simply, while casually brushing behind Leonardo’s ear, leaving behind a faint trace.

“More importantly... I suppose I owe your team an apology. They must have been waiting.”

A lie, clearly.

Leonardo caught it instantly, pausing as he adjusted the slipping towel before letting out a scoff.

“Does someone who feels sorry intentionally put on a show like that?”

“I said I’d deal with it.”

“Forget it. That’ll only make it worse. I’ll handle it.”

Sitting at the edge of the locker room bench, Leonardo crossed his legs. The smooth line drew Hugo’s gaze without thinking.

“Don’t mess with my team.”

The curiosity lingered—but there would be another chance.

Hugo pulled his gaze away and looked at him through the mirror.

“Then you’ll attend the gathering as planned?”

The hand at his neck tightened slightly.

Leonardo considered the meaning behind that touch, then tilted his chin up, leaning back.

“Why? Would you rather I didn’t go?”

Hugo lowered his gaze, saying nothing.

In his view was Leonardo’s face, looking up at him with quiet allure. The faint marks across his neck and collarbone stood out clearly in the mirror.

Sometimes Leonardo used his appearance well—other times, it seemed he forgot entirely what he looked like.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be asking like this now.

Hugo ran a hand along his neck and jaw, letting his head rest lightly against him as he considered.

Water took many forms.

Clear like dew. Deep and still like the ocean. Corrupted and violent when disturbed.

And earlier, Leonardo had carried the scent of something else—something hidden beneath curiosity.

But that was only instinct.

He couldn’t control everything.

Pushing the thought aside, Hugo spoke calmly, masking everything beneath composure.

“No. You should go. Enjoy yourself. It’s a victory you earned together.”

Leonardo blinked, slightly surprised.

Hugo withdrew the towel from his hair and picked up the robe from the floor, placing it neatly aside.

“I’ll have a carriage prepared. Better than attracting attention. And if you feel unwell, tell someone immediately.”

As Hugo began tidying up, preparing to leave, Leonardo watched him quietly.

He didn’t even know what he had been hoping for.

But somehow... the answer had come too easily.

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