( takes a liar to know a liar, and crais is fucking lying.
it's a bullshit lie felix would laugh at, loudly and incredulously, if he had the air to spare; he already knows ephemera can't keep his name out of his mouth, that busybody motherfucker. the grip on his neck is purposeful, bruising, accompanied by a slow burn that spreads through his chest and lungs. he can hold his breath for two and a half minutes underwater without proper gear, but loss of air via strangulation – even controlled strangulation – spikes a rapid hitch in the heartrate that can't be trained out of existence. it's reflexive. it's human instinct. fight or flight.
he doesn't fight it, straining slightly against him to arch his cock against his abdomen, rub firmly into solid muscle and hot skin. fuck, he thinks, shuddering, and his hand returns to crais' hair to fist tightly like he can't quite help himself. he likes having the anchor, likes the response it gets from crais when he pulls hard. likes how soft his hair is, too.
he thinks, briefly, about a condom, but they're not even the same species so who gives a fuck. felix wants him bare. alien-killer to alien-fucker, apparently. what would his co say if he were still alive.
typical, maybe.
crais won't have to wait long. felix shoves into him, angling him back enough that he can get good leverage on top of him and position himself correctly, hips twitching to a shuddering halt with the head of crais' cock pressed against his rim. then he eases down onto him, slow and loosely relaxed, muscled heat opening up around the shiny-slick width of crais' cock. he could've fingered himself slippery and wet to make the slide even easier, but this is good, too, being spread open all at once. more than good. )
no subject
it's a bullshit lie felix would laugh at, loudly and incredulously, if he had the air to spare; he already knows ephemera can't keep his name out of his mouth, that busybody motherfucker. the grip on his neck is purposeful, bruising, accompanied by a slow burn that spreads through his chest and lungs. he can hold his breath for two and a half minutes underwater without proper gear, but loss of air via strangulation – even controlled strangulation – spikes a rapid hitch in the heartrate that can't be trained out of existence. it's reflexive. it's human instinct. fight or flight.
he doesn't fight it, straining slightly against him to arch his cock against his abdomen, rub firmly into solid muscle and hot skin. fuck, he thinks, shuddering, and his hand returns to crais' hair to fist tightly like he can't quite help himself. he likes having the anchor, likes the response it gets from crais when he pulls hard. likes how soft his hair is, too.
he thinks, briefly, about a condom, but they're not even the same species so who gives a fuck. felix wants him bare. alien-killer to alien-fucker, apparently. what would his co say if he were still alive.
typical, maybe.
crais won't have to wait long. felix shoves into him, angling him back enough that he can get good leverage on top of him and position himself correctly, hips twitching to a shuddering halt with the head of crais' cock pressed against his rim. then he eases down onto him, slow and loosely relaxed, muscled heat opening up around the shiny-slick width of crais' cock. he could've fingered himself slippery and wet to make the slide even easier, but this is good, too, being spread open all at once. more than good. )