@forbelobog : his gaze is hard to misinterpret - gepard is hungry the moment he crosses the threshold - blue eyes narrowed on sampo's form. door closed, alone at last, captain waits for the conman to turn and face him, before he makes a motion with his hand, pointing to the bed, "now." he adopts his military tone, expecting the order to be received. sampo had discussed his desire to comply whenever gepard asks, in great detail might he add, so gepard will take him at his word. it's been a long day, and he plans to work it out with sampo. multiple times, in fact, if time permits...
𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐒 - one of warm juxtaposition in contrast to the task at hand. the day is warm, for belobog, and it puts him in a cheerful mood - couple that with the ticking hour of gepard most certainly being home soon, as well as the assorted gadgets spread out on the table before him, the affable sampo is as sunny as can be. he tinkers away with screwdriver in hand, very delicately attaching some sort of wiring to the inside of one of his bombs (that he definitely should NOT have on the dinner table), and murmurs the off kilter tune - certainly not a local one, and perhaps not from this planet at all.
eyes glance at the clock and he knows he should clean up - put the bombs away because they are definitely illegal and gepard would give him a stern talking to over contraband weaponry should he catch him in the act... so sampo stands, quick to usher his tools and items into a neat and meticulously kept black case when -
the door clicks open, and the conman lets out the smallest of 'eeps.'
his spine goes ramrod straight, as he swears he feels what is an additional chill in the air. sampo shuts the case in a hurry, whirling on his boyfriend to offer him one of his simpering smiles. rats. he's definitely been caught and is going to be in some amount of trouble for this but- then the command rings through him, he drinks in the look in gepard's everfrost gaze, and sampo's mouth is forming a small 'o.'
" well. hello to you too, baby. " comes his ever cheerful chuckle, and he is retreating, backing up slowly towards the large bed on the other side of the small apartment. a hand is raised in supplication, but the violet haired man looks at his lover through long, coquettish lashes, eyes already lidding with desire. as sampo retreats, the silken and rather ridiculous robe he'd been wearing slips off broad shoulders - down, down, down, collecting at the crux of his elbows and baring most of his chest and abdomen to gepard. when knees hit the back of the bed, he pauses, a long leg darting out beneath folds of fabric. he does not lay upon the mattress. yet. but he does offer the other an almost saccharine smile, an innocent cant of his head, and a smoky uttering of:
" rough day? "