Lancer’s heaving chest, hot and slightly damp with sweat, pressed against Archer’s back. Archer grimaced when the other man had the audacity to lean over even further and gasp directly into his ear.
“Watch yourself,” he snapped, smacking a broad hand that was unsubtly snaking its way towards his fly. “Even for you, acting this much like a dog in heat is unusual.”
“Sorry,” Lancer grunted, filling the shell of Archer’s ear with the rumbling sound. Cloth rustled and leather pants squeaked as the other servant grinded down on Archer - hard.
“Just...fuck...the way you spiked that volleyball into the lad’s face. That blatant self-hate and bitchy pettiness...left me feeling kinda hot.”
“You got turned on by me smashing in some kid’s face with a volleyball,” said Archer. “That’s fucked up but also kinda sexy.”
Then they banged.