Late Night Swim (Dillon)

Alaric Krupp had for some time now been the branch leader of Thyssenkrupp international, southern division, operating out of Venice,b ut only recently had he been trying to get into workings of the local lycanthropes. As far as he could tell, so far there had been little to no actual organization or real meetings among the lions of the city and surrounding areas. From what he had further gathered, he estimated himself to be the potentially most powerful werelion in the region. That meant it was time to make his move and start feeling out the potential 'troops.'

It had been a long week. Not only had things at Thyssenkrupp been particularly trying for the past few days, but he had set into motion the first step of many concerning his rise to power over what would soon be, he hoped, the Pride of Venice. Much to his disappointment, despite all of the work he had done, very little had turned up regarding neither lions of the area nor potential followers. Thus, after a long afternoon spent relaxing that Saturday at a private sauna, he had decided to work out further frustrated energy via exercise.

The Palestra Leone was a recently opened gym in Venice, and doing well already economically, attracting a small but growing patronage made up of good looking, fit males. Most significant of all was the fact that Thyssenkrupp had a majority of the business's stock, making Alaric more or less the top owner, though he let under-administration do the majority of management. It was near closing time that evening, and as far as he knew, he was the only member present beside the night manager. He was just finishing up the last of several dozen laps in the Olympic sized pool, when a long-lost familiar presence was to enter.

There was one word to describe the way Dillon was feeling right now and that word was positively yummy. He loved getting in a hard workout, especially after a grueling work week which he'd definitely had this week. It'd been his first at the university and it'd been a royal pain in the arse but it'd been fun too. All of his muscles were burning pleasantly, soothed by the hot shower he'd just treated himself to afterward, and now he was going to cool them down and relax in he pool. He'd take a more thorough shower when he got home.

Over the shoulder went the towel after he'd dried himself enough to not trail water all over the place. On went the plain black trunks he'd bough recently. They were more form-fitting than he preferred his swimwear to be but at least they weren't bikini shorts type things. Or whatever it was most guys opted for nowadays. To each his own. Into the pool area he went, setting the towel aside and stretching one last time before heading in. He wasn't alone, he knew that much. But he wasn't really all that concerned about that. The pool was more than big enough and he wasn't staying long. Keeping to the far right swim lane he started doing lazy laps. This was relaxing...

With the last few hours spent unwinding and refocusing his attentions, Alaric was in time made aware of the error in his assumption of being the only patron in the gymnasium that particular night. Even in the midst of his aquatic athleticism, with attention primarily routed into the rapid, powerful swimstrokes propelling him through the water, he became aware in time of the approach of another, vaguely familiar, lycanthropic presence. In the few heartbeats it took for him to reach the opposite end of the huge swimming pool, Alaric's mental scan informed him of the nature of his compatriot – and the identity therein was pleasantly shocking. Thus, he was fully prepared by the time that Dillon entered with his towel and black trunks, ready to intercept him.

”Dillon. You've grown.” The voice came far to Dillon's right side, full of teasing mirth and arrogance, a perfectly cultured baritone completely free of any jarring German accent. The source of the voice was soon enough attached to a visual of its owner. Soaking wet, with blond hair slicked back and held in place by a pair of goggles which had been tucked behind his ears, Alaric Krupp pushed himself effortlessly off of the edge of the swimming pool, starting towards Dillon in long, powerful strides. Having grown a hair himself, Alaric was still clearly Dillon's superior n terms of both size and muscular definition... And if the ridiculously bulging pair of dark blue-and-accented Speedos he was wearing was any indication, he held the belt of size champion there, too.

In the midst of his relaxing, idle backstrokes, the alpha lion became suddenly aware that his fellow swimmer -though still a goodly distance away from him- was giving off the unmistakable presence and energy of lion. Alpha like himself to be exact, though a bi on the more powerful side if he were any judge. He slowed his strokes, curious now, though he practically jumped out of his skin when the other lion addressed him by name. In a voice that, though somewhat changed, he most definitely recognized.

He lost all focus on his backstroke and simultaneously smacked his head into the wall of the pool and went under out of pure shock of both the blow and the sudden reunion. He came up coughing and spluttering and looked around wildly only to spot a bigger, brawnier Alaric than he rememebred striding toward him. And he panicked. He dove under the water, swimming swiftly to the other end of the pool and scrambling out of the water make a grab for his towel. He was getting the bloody hell outta here before the big beast got any ideas in his head about reliving old times.

Although it had been fifteen years since their last encounter, Alaric was quick enough to pick up again on the entity of his long ago lover, his innate Alpha sensitivity drawing in every aspect of Dillon's physical and mental being, re-familiarizing himself with it all. As he approached the grown man, the German's inner lion did the same, loping forward with a lazy arrogant gait, letting just a hint of its full power trickle out to tickle along the edges of Dillon's beast. Upon noticing the Irish man's slight jump and the clearly confused response to the would-be Rex's words, Alaric chuckled in a low, resonating rumble and paused a few meters away from the pool's edge, eyebrow arched.

”What? Do you-” The man's words – supplemented with a psychic echo so that they'd be heard even though Dillon was underwater – were cut short when the swimmer collided head-first with the side of the pool. By the time the other lion came up, spitting water, to break the surface, the turquoise-eyed greater Alpha was already crouching down fully right at his head, his toes curled around the pool's wall rim. Before Alaric could say anything, he blinked and watched, laughing in belly-busting amusement as the Irishman wildly flung himself across the pool again to scramble out and try to obscure his body with a towel.

Shaking his head a little, the taller blond walked in a ground-swallowing gait around the pool's perimeter to close the distance, his muscles shining with wetness, packed swimwear bulging suggestively. ”What's wrong, cub? Afraid of the big bad lion?”

The younger lion snatched up his clean white towel and began backing away from Alaric swiftly, blinking a warm wetness out of one eye. What the- Christ! He stumbled back into one of the lounging chairs, calves hitting it with enough force to knock him onto it hard. He was surprised he didn't break the damn thing! And then he saw splotches of red on the towel clutched in his hand. Oh Jaysus... He touched a hand to his head where it still hurt, fingers coming away red. He'd bashed himself good...

Muttering a soft curse in Gaelic he stood and pressed the towel to the spot just above his hairline as he backed up mroe slowly and carefully now, glowering at Alaric as he approached. God it was all he could do not to feel the flip-flopping of his belly and succumb to his panic outright. When his back came up against the cool wall he muttered another curse. This wasn't his night after all. "You've some nerve calling me a cub." he growled. "And I'm sure as hell not afraid of you."

Despite his observation regarding Dillon's growth being patently true, Alaric noted with a growling chuckle that his former partner's reactions were otherwise every bit as lacking in confidence and surety as they were all of those years ago. Clucking his tongue, sea green-blue eyes lidded arrogantly and not diverting, Alaric shook his head somewhat, exhaling slowly as he came to a halt body's length away from the edge of Dillon's feet, looking down with a mixture of concern and bemusement at the sprawling werelion, who was just then realizing via bloody evidence the full impact of his... Well, cranial impact.

”Calm down, kitten,” the looming Alpha growled in a deep, rolling rumble of command, shot under with an added psychic power, trying to use his Beast to urge Dillon away from panic. Watching critically as the Irishman swore and got to his feet once more to start backing away all over again, Alaric rolled his eyes, replying in perfect Goedelic Celtic, ”You big baby. Let me see.”

"You've some nerve calling me a cub. And I'm sure as hell not afraid of you."

”Beast speaks louder than words,” he chided while finishing his approach, having backed his partner against the wall. Exhibiting complete compassion and sincerity, Alaric reached up to gently pull Dillon's hand, and thus the towel it held, away from his head, which he tilted slightly towards him to get a better look at the wound.

In his anxious state, Dillon barely registered the comments Alaric tossed out as he'd backed away again but on some level he took umbrage anyway. Kitten? He dared call him kitten? And who the fuck was being a big baby? he wasn't crying over the head injury he was disgruntled and flipped out over this kooky reunion. And dammit all to hell, just the sight of the other lion's body glistening with water droplets and the muscles working as he mmoved toward him... damned if it didn't make his gut clench tightly.

He drew in a sharp, hiss of a breath as the bigger man backed him completely up against the wall, letting the same hissing breath out shakily. Okay this was not good. This was so not good. He couldn't do this! he had no right to make him fucking weak at the knees like he sixteen year old boy he had been. He didn't play subby anymore for anyone, didn't let anyone dominate or take advantage of him. Control was his and not to be relinquished. At least it was where anyone but this big lug was concerned. He never had been the sort to take No for an answer and certainly not the sort to back down.

He fought Alaric's hold only slightly as he pulled his hand away from his head, figuring he'd just want to look it over and deciding that it wasn't worth the struggle. "If you hadn't noticed," he gritted out. "My beast a far cry from a cub. Or a kitten. And I'm a far cry from the tight-assed virgin I was when you first laid eyes on me. I'm not sixteen anymore. I don't bend over for anyone."

It was all part of the by-now long familiar and enjoyable game that the two had begun all of those years ago, and had picked up right from that point as if no time had passed. Back then, Alaric had already been a naturally budding Alpha, whereas the Irishman had only been but a cub, but even at that, he had sensed a certain resilience and strength of character in the teenager that had only attracted him more to Dillon. Now the game was kicked up several notches; both were Alphas, and Alaric was making it a very enjoyable goal to prove he was still the greater of the pair. Just the way the German composed himself and glistened, flexing, before the shorter male, he knew, hypnotized Dillon in a way that muffled the little sparks of indignation he felt roiling in McSwain's Beast at his condescension.

He subsequently felt the internal conflict and turmoil well up and boil in the smaller male in response to being backed into a corner – no position any animal wanted to be in. However, as if completely unaware of the possibility that Dillon could potentially harm or evade him, the blond simply growled and clucked his tongue in a sort of leonine rebuke. His huge inner lion bumped and rubbed hard against the other's, soothingly and securely.

"If you hadn't noticed. My beast a far cry from a cub. Or a kitten. And I'm a far cry from the tight-assed virgin I was when you first laid eyes on me. I'm not sixteen anymore. I don't bend over for anyone."

Humming, he spent a few moments silently checking out the wound, before chuckling out, ”Just a little bruise-cut. It's already stopped.” Then without warning, he moved with lightning speed to grip Dillon by both shoulders and with merciless power, spun him around, slamming him front-side-forward into the wall, and then grappling him by the neck to bend him down at the waist. Slamming his musculature atop Dillon's back, he chuckled into his ear, ”Except me.” His overly full Speedos ground all too blatantly against Dillon's rear.

Good god they'd been in each other's company maybe a handful of minutes and already they'd slipped back into old games. Alaric the seducer, Dillon the reluctant and yet oh so secretly willing victim trying to fend him off and protect the virtue he'd long ago surrendered to this very man. trying to show him that he was stronger and that he could keep him from his prize. but dammit, the big lug had grown stronger himself and of course had to show it off.

His own inner lion growled gruffly at being knocked on it's rump by the bigger alpha but it leaned forward to nuzzle and rub against the familiar stranger. The lion that had created him. he was happy to be near him. But as the human vessel was suddennly whirled around and slammed against the wall, pinned by Alaric's massive, muscled body, Dillon growled and tried to slam back against him to shove him away. But he was unsuccessful and the bigger man forced him to bend so that he was perfectly fitted to every curve and hollow of Alaric's bdy. He could feel the monstrous hardness that was the German's arousal grinding into his backside and, just like old times, his own length responded in a heartbeat.

Despite himself, he was insanely aroused by Alaric's display of dominance over him. Submitting was something he just did not do for anyone. Unless that someone was Alaric Krupp. He always seemed to get his way, especially where Dillon was concerned. And the irishman had to admit that he wondered if he could still take a good pounding like he used to. But if he'd gotten any.. bigger in that department... Dillon would be both literally and figuratively fucked. He hadn't let anyone take him like that since the night he'd been infected... fifteen years was a long time to go without proper... preparation.

What was he thinking? He wasn't going to let him do this! Much as he wanted him, he was no one's submissive. He was a alpha andh ad worked damned hard to get there. He stopped himself grinding back against the bigger man's length and decided to yank them both into a shoulder roll. At least it wasn't his that would be slamming into the tile.