A/N So I hope this isn't too OOC, but I wanted to explore Hunter/Sebastian's dynamic. Hints of Seblaine, but definitely at its core a intense Huntbastian fic. Reviews are wonderful.

Hunter's supposed to be studying. He's not supposed be to be stealing glances at his scantily-clad roommate every ten seconds.

Every time he looks back at his textbook, the Attic Greek swims before his eyes, spinning faster and faster until he has to shut his eyes tightly. In the darkness, Sebastian's bare chest is tattooed with a dead language.

"Why do you even study that." Sebastian's bored tone was flat, with no inflection to indicate it had been a question (with Sebastian, it was rarely ever anything more than an insult or a statement).

Hunter opened his eyes and stared at the passage he was supposed to be translating. Achilles and Patroclus: friends as children, lovers as men. Two become one. After Patroclus is killed, Achilles grieves and, spurned on by his love for Patroclus, finally dons his armour and goes to battle. He dies from a fatal wound to his heel. His ghost meets Patroclus in the fields of the afterlife. Til death do us part, indeed.

Of course, it wasn't likely that Sebastian would pick up on the delicate nuances of the tale. He'd tried explaining Greek prose to Sebastian before, and the other boy had winked and commented cattily, "And I'm sure they weren't even remotely bi-curious."

Hunter had half-heartedly sneered and turned away. He hated being bested. Sebastian was good at that. Too often was Hunter's carefully crafted mask tossed aside by the other boy; it was like a constant game of peek-a-boo, except it had long stopped being fun for Hunter. He lived in a perpetual state of frustration. Sebastian got under his skin like no other – and yet, there was no other in Dalton with whom he could spend hours, lounging in the common room, bickering disinterestedly, reading or playing chess, sunlight bouncing off dark, expensive furniture and making Sebastian's skin gleam bronze. The curse of the wealthy. Hunter smiled bitterly to himself. Look, but don't touch! His parents still thought he was dating that pretty blonde piece from the East coast.

Sebastian, reclining like a marble statue on Hunter's bed, stretched out a long leg and prodded Hunter's side. His only attempt at modesty were the thin pyjama pants he wore, conscientiously pulled low enough on his hipbones to suggest, but not reveal.

Hunter exhaled heavily through his nose, walls slotting into place like clapboard (and that was what he felt, when with Sebastian: cheap, uncomplicated). Acting as if he had been on the verge of some great thought, he put down his fountain pen, fussily screwing the cap back on, then turned fully in his chair to observe Sebastian with faux irritation.

"Could you repeat your banal question?" Hunter asked silkily, voice as delicate as a blade.

"Thanks for giving me your full attention, Hunt. I noticed." Sebastian grinned lazily, hair flopping artistically before one hazy eye. Hunter seethed, though with what he couldn't determine. "I said," and here he tipped his head back until it lolled on its stem, throat bared, "why are you into all that homo stuff?"

Hunter felt extremely uncomfortable. Why was Sebastian able to pick apart every meticulous action Hunter made? To others he appeared aloof and aristocratic, like a prince chatting to the stableboys. But Sebastian made Hunter feel like a clumsy child tugging on his mother's skirt. Tolerated and humoured.

Hunter didn't sniff, but he did the next best thing, which was to glare down his Roman nose. It gave Hunter some comfort that Sebastian was so fixated on this ambiguous aspect of his personality; he clearly hadn't looked much further below the surface. Sebastian could glance at someone, throw out a barbed comment, and he'd consider the matter finished. Hunter had a short temper, and this had been solved in the first week by Sebastian, delighted at this new plaything (though he hadn't been so delighted at his split lip; Hunter did regret that a little, but it had made Sebastian look surly and dangerous, which he liked). Despite his military upbringing, Hunter still lost it sometimes when Sebastian pushed him too far. He'd toned it back since that first encounter – but he hadn't been able to forget that that flash of dark calculation in Sebastian's eyes. Now Sebastian had found a tear in his fabric, and he wasn't content with only worrying it occasionally. He needed for it to split.

"They are extremely powerful narratives," Hunter answered coldly. "I wouldn't expect an uncultured mind such as yours to understand."

"Oh, I understand, all right." Sebastian dropped back onto only one elbow, so his body was twisted magnificently towards Hunter. It was all he could do to keep glaring into Sebastian's very bright eyes. The lamplight cast odd shadows to play on the wall behind him. "You are unable to procure some classical male 'bonding' for yourself, so you have to live through the beery stories of scabby old warriors who have nothing better to do, seemingly, than feast, make long speeches about everything, go to war, and lament about yonder farm boy's soft, golden buttocks."

Hunter set his jaw.

Sebastian crowed with delight. "Why is it, my boy, that for all of your protestations, you still insist upon getting all uptight about some gay lovin' –"

"It's tradition," Hunter bit out. Almost immediately, he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Rising to Sebastian's frequent baits never ended well. On top of that, Hunter was especially strung out tonight. He had to finish his Greek before tomorrow… But for some sick reason, he'd rather verbally spar with Sebastian and steal looks at the other boy's hairless, tanned chest, than work. Hunter felt like tearing out his hair. Not only did he have a perverted need to consistently throw himself at Sebastian's mercy (what images that conjured up), but his academic standards could slip because of it…

Suddenly, as Hunter became aware of his situation - pinning Sebastian to the bed with words and eyes - he couldn't really bring himself to care too much. You can't just give a parched man one sip of water, after all.

Sebastian's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "Tradition?" he repeated with genuine incredulity.

"The classics," Hunter translated stiffly. "It's traditional to study them."

"Yeah, perhaps in the 1800s." Sebastian snorted, giving Hunter an amused look. "You should live in the present, darling, it's far nicer. You should also," he studied the length of his leg with feigned interest, "study a modern language."

Overcome suddenly by a rush of warm affection, Hunter grinned, but swiftly disguised it with a sneer when he remembered the game they were playing. If it was one thing that Hunter privately found the sweetest about Sebastian, it was his constant allusions to Europe – or more specifically, to France: it wasn't uncommon for him to start a sentence with, "When I was in Paris." Hunter chalked these feelings of fondness up to friendship. Plenty of the other Warblers would roll their eyes and mock scoff when Sebastian dropped French asides in conversation.

Nevertheless, Hunter wasn't in the mood this evening to completely let down his guard. It was different when they'd been in each other's company for a few hours and barriers had flickered and eventually gone out. Both of them were edgy tonight. Sebastian seemed determined to get a rise out of Hunter; Hunter was determined to remain steadfast and to keep a hold of his temper. Their thinly-veiled banter was born out of boredom and a need to let off steam. An eye for an eye, et cetera. How tiresome, Hunter thought.

"And what language would that be, Seb?" Hunter leaned back in his chair, hands poised over the arms of his chair, never without his military bearing.

Sebastian stretched ostentatiously. Hunter couldn't stop his eyes dipping along the expanse of taut muscles and skin. When their eyes met, Sebastian grinned darkly, dangerous as a cat. "Vous ne pouvez pas obtenir assez, hein?" He chuckled to himself and sat up.

"You're so predictable," Hunted replied after a pause. He was a little unnerved, as he always was whenever Sebastian started spouting off long phrases in French. Hunter would say something in Greek, just to show that two could play at the douchebag game, but it wasn't quite as quick or musical. He'd have to struggle for a good five minutes to figure out the correct tenses.

"Correction." Sebastian swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting them firmly on the wooden floor. "You're the predictable one."

Hunter suddenly didn't like the glint in Sebastian's eyes. The mood had changed, and he couldn't tell what it was: had they reverted to their old routine, or was it something else entirely? Hunter was inclined to believe the atmosphere was much more dangerous that it had been before. They swung between grudging, startling acceptance, and unbridled hate. It was always a case of one-up with them both, until they dropped the pretences. But otherwise it escalated rapidly, spiralling out of control, and Hunter had to rein himself in until he did something he regretted.

Hunter was now in free fall. He groped blindly for a life saver.

"I have to get this Greek done, Smythe." Hunter's voice was cold. He could feel his hands shaking.

"Ah yes," Sebastian purred. His mouth had pulled up at an edge, exposing a sharp canine, giving him a foxy look. "Back to the homos."

Hunter hardly knew what came over him when he threw himself at Sebastian. A brief, fierce scuffle ensued, which ended with Sebastian pinned to the bed by Hunter, who was breathing heavily. Hunter, gripping Sebastian's shoulders, shook the other boy hard, heedless of any damage he might cause. All he could see was Sebastian's gleaming eyes, glittering with triumph and… fear?

"You think you're so clever," Hunter snarled, drunk on his physical power. The feeling of having Sebastian underneath him, meek as a lamb… His heart was humming in his chest. His head was spinning. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hunter knew he should back away. Getting like this had been the ticket to military school. Singing like a bird had gotten him trapped in Dalton's cage. But he was giddy with this; it had been far too long since he'd shaken off the shackles. "You think you've got us all figured out. But what about you, Seb? Who's gonna figure you out?"

Sebastian's gaze dipped, and Hunter knew he'd found his trump card. "It's sure as hell not going to be that two-bit Anderson boy."

Growling, Sebastian reared up, pushing Hunter back. They struggled for dominance, but Hunter shoved Sebastian down, leaning close and using his extra strength to anchor Sebastian to the sheets. The lamplight made Sebastian's face angular and strange. Hunter couldn't see his eyes properly. Everything was swimming. He felt himself getting dragged further and further down into the abyss.

They remained like that for a moment, Hunter shaking with pent-up rage, Sebastian motionless.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Sebastian said eventually, his voice soft.

Before Hunter could respond, Sebastian had leant up and – with an unexpected thrill, Hunter knew what was going to happen – their lips met. Hunter responded immediately and against his better judgement, tipping his head to one side. Their mouths opened and tongues met, and it was wet and sloppy and exactly what Hunter had ever wanted.

Sebastian bit and brutally dominated the kiss. It was all Hunter could do to keep up. Slowly, Sebastian rose, until Hunter was on his lap, his hands still clinging to broad shoulders. And suddenly, Sebastian flipped them. Awkwardly, Hunter unlatched his mouth and wriggled upwards on the bed, his legs tangled beneath Sebastian's body. Sebastian's eyes gleamed like a demon's, his grin cruel and lascivious. He crawled up Hunter's form and shoved a knee between Hunter's own, nudging his erection with a thigh. Hunter bit his lip and hated himself. Sebastian grabbed Hunter's wrists and pinned them on either side of his head.

The next kiss was just as bruising and furious. Sebastian ground his hips into Hunter's, and they both gasped before lips were retaken. Hunter's mind was whirling faster and faster. He couldn't think any further past more more more, the heady scent and presence of Sebastian enveloping him. Nothing existed past the bed and the wall to Hunter's left, which flickered and danced in the lamplight, their figures silhouetted against the wallpaper, twisting like Dante's creatures.

Sebastian dragged his hands down Hunter's arms and rested them on his chest, Hunter's nipples trapped between the gaps of long fingers. Sebastian drew back, his mouth huge and red and damp. With a look that conveyed nothing more than lust, Sebastian deliberately lowered his mouth to Hunter's neck and began to suck. Bolts of electricity shot through Hunter's body from that one point of contact; he shivered and savagely bit his lip, desperately trying to keep quiet. He loved the feeling of Sebastian's weight on his body – a complete reversal to their earlier situation. Hunter wanted to be dominated by Sebastian with a force that frightened him, although if he was honest with himself, it was exhilarating to lose control, even if it was to Sebastian.

Hunter wondered blearily if Sebastian could read minds when the boy raised his head and met his gaze. Sebastian's pupils were gigantic, and suddenly Hunter knew that the other boy needed this as much as he did. To what end, neither were sure. But it was ground that had yet to be explored. Hunter was enjoying the odyssey.

Sebastian's expression faltered, and the next kiss was far gentler than before. Hunter's heart, already racing, pounded frantically against his chest. What was Sebastian doing? Wasn't this just about sex?

Sex… the word echoed in Hunter's mind. He was dizzy with want. Was that where this was going? He felt a shock of fright. Military school had taught him a thing or two, but Sebastian was way out of his league.

Spurned on by his thoughts, which had quickly veered off track and were suddenly obsessed with what exactly Sebastian knew what to do, Hunter shoved Sebastian off him. Their knees knocked, elbows clumsily intertwined. Sebastian was sprawled on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fuck, Hunt…"

Those breathy words went straight to Hunter's groin. He pressed his chest against Sebastian's own. If sex was the end goal, they'd been kissing for far too long.

Sebastian made a half-hearted noise of protest when Hunter slipped down his body, clever Greek-stained fingers tripping along the waistband of his pyjama pants. Never giving Sebastian a moment to act, Hunter went to work. Sebastian swore violently, his back arching. Hands had tangled in Hunter's hair. Hips stuttered in hesitation. But the longer Hunter sucked, his cheek hollowing, the easier Sebastian fell into step, and it wasn't long before he had tugged Hunter's head up with a painful wrench.

"Get up here," Sebastian growled. Hunter snapped to attention. The taste of Sebastian on his tongue swam in his mouth. Their kiss involved too many teeth, but Hunter was past caring. He was kissing Sebastian – Sebastian, whom had been nothing but a thorn in his side since day one. His only friend; his worst enemy. The battle was far from won.

Hunter's belt buckle was pulled open, his uniform shirt tugged out. Sebastian thrust his hand down the front of Hunter's slacks, and Hunter cried out, heedless of who might hear.

"Shut up." Sebastian clamped a hand over Hunter's mouth. Hunter felt his body rushing towards the edge of the cliff, his climax drawing closer and closer. He was so close to the void, that when Sebastian clambered above him and aligned their cocks, Hunter saw nothing but black black black. There was nothing except the obscene slick sound of Sebastian's hand guiding them both; nothing but Sebastian's sweaty forehead pressed against his own. Sebastian worked them for what felt like years, but must have only been minutes, before they both came, exhausted and angry. Sebastian drew his hand away at the very last moment, when Hunter's cock was sensitive and twitching. He met Hunter's eyes and sucked the fingers one by one.

For some reason, this act was more lewd and intimate than anything that had happened so far. It made Hunter flush and his mouth drop open slightly. And with a force that knocked him off kilter, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to have Sebastian dominate him again, the other boy's chest against his back, a sharp pain, a glorious finish.

They could hardly catch their breath. Sebastian collapsed beside Hunter. Their chests puffed in unison. Hunter's shirt was soaked with sweat. It was uncomfortably hot; the air was too close in the room.

As Hunter gradually dragged himself out of his afterglow, he became aware of what had just happened. Although he wanted himself to condemn it as a one-off occurrence - something born of boredom and hate - he felt that the act had held some weight to it. Something that he didn't quite understand.

All he knew was that he wanted it to happen again, badly.

After a while, Sebastian rose and stood. He pulled his pyjama pants up, his muscular thighs and buttocks disappearing from view beneath the thin grey cotton. Without a word, Sebastian stretched and went to his own bed, sitting down heavily on the mattress. He didn't look at Hunter.

Feeling sheepish, Hunter tucked himself away and buckled up his trousers. He sat up, trying to elegantly untangle himself from the sheets. They sat facing each other.

Sebastian looked into Hunter's eyes, and he found himself unable to gaze anywhere else. Those green eyes were shining oddly in the half-light; his pupils were large. Hunter wanted to believe it was because of him.

"You need to finish your Greek," Sebastian said, his voice expressionless.

Hunter froze. Sebastian didn't blink.

He cleared his throat and busied himself with tucking his shirt away. Eventually, he stood and went to the desk, picked up his pen.

Behind him, he could hear Sebastian breathing slowly and calmly. Their conflicted thoughts tumbled and swirled in the air above them. Their hearts hammered against their bone cages as they pretended nothing at all was amiss. It was all part of their game.