A Shadowhunter's favorite past-time. Mundanes have football and crochet and those little cheese snacks served on a silver platter at an upscale dinner party. He'd take art or selling cars or something more fulfilling that this. Luca's forearms rest against the railing overlooking the Pit. Everyone wears black leather and combat boots and trots around like they're members of the mafia, rather than agents of doom and destruction against the bad guys. Not Luca. He still wears his pajama pants and a light blue T-shirt that hangs loosely off his frame. The pads of his toes stick to the smooth metal surface of the bridge. Below, Bryan dances gracefully. He evades a diagonal cut from a training sword, and sidesteps a brutal vertical swing of a bo staff. Not a single strike connects meaningfully, and the whole pit of seven are giving it their all. He moves with power, like a horse, with elegance, like a crane, and with precision, like a snake. His choice of weapon doesn't surprise Luca; he's the one that gave him those gauntlets, with blades as long and sharp as they needed to be. The tattoos snaking their way up Bryan's arm, how his belly heaves with every breath, expanding the mark of the angel burned into his back, and the one particular, etched onto his right shoulder blade entrance him more than the actual feat of strength and skill on display.
The first time Luca experienced Bryan fight, it was first hand. Hand to hand. And very quick. They were sparring. A little academic test to see how everyone was coming along. Luca himself was fairly decent, having bested his longstanding rival, Clarke, after many, many failures. He even gave Lexa a run for her money. But to be beaten in two moves, Luca wasn't ready for. Initially, he thought the kid's resting scowl was just a front to make himself look intimidating. Luca didn't consider himself small; he was built sturdily enough, and with what he had, he made due. He wasn't the greatest thing to ever fall from the heaven tree, but he was competent enough.
But nope. The new kid literally sent his world spinning in an instant. Something mechanical, yet irresistibly organic in the efficiency with which Luca was pinned.
Luca's weight shifts as Shadowhunters concede, one by one.
"And thus, the sheep line up for the slaughter," Murphy sneers, his boots heavy against the floor. Luca resists the urge to look him in his smug face.
"Every time. Without fail. They just love getting their asses kicked, huh?" and there is the dead fish stare. Luca's lips tighten. Doesn't turn to him.
"Can you believe it? Some people actually take this Shadowhunting thing seriously. Who would have thought."
Murphy outright laughs and it takes Luca by surprise. Much too friendly for Luca, Murphy ruffles his hair before walking to Luca's other side.
"I've always wanted to do this."
The statement confuses Luca for a moment. Then he feels himself being hoisted, by the legs, up, up, and up still.
"Murphy, what the hell! Get off me! Murphy!" Panicked, Luca grasps the rails just before he's flipped over. His wrist strain with his weight and his flailing limbs searching for purchase. The last two Shadowhunters standing become distracted by the happening, only to be systematically dismantled. The moment when everyone is down for the count, Bryan looks up to assess the situation.
Luca can sense Murphy's presence, crouched low behind him. Predatory. A cat preparing for the pounce.
"Hey, look man, I'm just following orders. Whip you into shape, is what she said. No hard feelings?" He laughs curtly, derisively.
Suddenly, the metal bar heats up. In an instant, he hears his hands searing and burning, and just like that, Luca falls. The wind whipping through his hair, the ground rushing up to greet him – he hears his heart pounding in his arms and his right above his chest, resting deep in that cavity just below his neck. He screams something at Murphy, but the thought is quickly lost as he falls right through the training mats and concrete and into darkness.
He falls and falls and falls forever. The air is tight, stale, and stagnant, and when he hits the surface, he plunges right through. All the way through, until it engulfs him entirely. His punishment. He already felt hollow, and even without the unforgiving chill against his bare skin, his body convulsed with tremors. He felt like a worm on concrete, wriggling until home surrounds him. He is a tunnel waiting for the collapse. A window pane waiting for the rock. Above, the light snuffed out. His skin burned excruciatingly and without forgiveness, over every inch. His sobs mingled with the water, and for a mere moment, he wondered if that's all it was.
He cried, without inhibition, tact, or discretion. He was stripped of nearly everything. But every time he felt the end whisper in his ear, beckoning him under, the other heartbeat kept him company. For long hours or several short minutes, it kept him as long as it took to make the choice too damn difficult.
Luca groans and gathers himself off the floor. He glares, but Murphy is already gone. Bryan is all over him, checking him over, making sure he's ok, but Luca waves him off, stretches his sores away, takes a defensive stance, and summons his angelic weapons – a pair of bladed knuckles.
Bryan sharpens his gaze and huffs, "You don't really have to do this. If you don't want…"
"It's whatever. Let's just give them a show. Show 'em how it's done." Luca smirks and nods to all the perplexed, yet interested Shadowhunters.
At that, Bryan smiles and takes up his own stance, drawing the blades of his gauntlets to full sword length. Sweat gleams down his swollen arms, swan neck, rippling chest, and the expanse of smooth muscle carved into his stomach. Strands of obsidian slither and slink just above almond eyes; his lips curve long and taper to crow's feet.
"Don't go easy for my sake," Bryan warns, right blade on target, left low and defensive.
Luca, true to temperament, makes the first move.
Luca loses in one-hundred and eight moves.
And like that first time, and like every time after Luca lost, he finds himself incredibly aroused, pinned, one hand pressing his wrists together above him, the other poised with the blade pressed non-threateningly against his neck. He drinks in Bryan's sharp features with dilated eyes and breathes like he just can't supply his body with enough oxygen. Heat pressed upon him, and body parts hovering and pressing in all the right places intoxicates him. Unlike that very first time, he doesn't try to hide it from Bryan; he can see the effect he's having on Luca plainly. He can feel it too. He leans down, drawing in steady, controlled breaths, cheekily and stealthily stroking his length agonizingly slow. Luca catches a whimper in his throat.
"Still want to give them a show?" he exhales into Luca's ear. To which Luca laughs off and pushes him away.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you lose with grace and style," Luca says, grunting and sore, while getting up. He reaches down to pull Bryan up, "Never die without a smile on your face."
Bryan gathers his belongings and leaves the Pit, Luca trotting right alongside him. The elevator doors roll closed. The stench of body odor quickly smothers the small enclosure. A smug grin paints his face.
"The Mom can't say I didn't do anything today, at least."
Bryan isn't smiling. He's gazing at him hungrily.
"These aren't monitored, right?" he gestures toward the ceiling synecdochally.
"No…why?" The words are barely out before he finds himself being consumed. Methodically. Hastily. His head thumps against the elevator wall, thought he doesn't remember taking the steps. He's wrapped up in sweat and heat and he tastes faintly of cigarettes. But Bryan's tongue massages over his own and he's breathing in and he feels both their hearts racing – he doesn't care.
The elevator slows its decent.
Bryan withdraws. He rakes over Luca's lazy, unblemished form. Sad, sleepy eyes. Wildly unkempt hair. Bare arms and bare feet. Same air, same heart, as if a kiss could press their beings together in a way that transcends the physical. Together in a way where separation seems impossible.
"You still taste like death and darkness." Luca smiles that adorable smile.
"Fuck." Bryan casts his gaze to the side.
The elevator doors open.