"Who's ever been trained for that?" He shucks his own top off without hesitation, revealing sculpted muscle and chest hair (remember when it was fashionable to scrape everything off in 330BC yeah he doesn't do that anymore, he waxed once for his wife and Never Again, Thanks) and the odd scar. Some years ago he took a bullet to the shoulder, apparently, and fuck only knows how he survived what appears to be faded but still very visible stab wounds to his stomach (probably something to do with being able to borrow divine abilities). He's a brawler, inelegant, resilient.

Alejandro runs his palms up the other man's chest, tracing lines of definition, stroking over his nipples, wanting to know where and how he likes to be touched best. He ducks his head down to steal a kiss from his mouth, then moves lower, kissing his throat, biting gently at his collarbone, pressing more kisses against his shoulder.