( ephemera stares at him for so long that felix nearly does lose his mind.
then his mouth, warm and inviting on felix's mouth, and it feels like the worst kind of mistake. a choice deliberately made, heedless of felix's warnings. the final nail in the coffin, then the worst thought of all, squirming restlessly beneath a roiling surface: that this is all he's wanted since he kissed him in the hallway. more than the violence, or in spite of it. more than his own gun under his chin.
felix turns his hand in his hair, curling his knuckles tight around oil-slick strands, and parts his mouth for ephemera's tongue. the taste is a little grainy, powdery dirt and oil and blood licked from ephemera's open mouth, from the backs of his teeth. he pricks his bottom lip, needle-sharp. they could be on the titanium floors of the tartarus, for all he knows, back when ephemera was just a tool to be used and deployed against his enemies. there's nothing to feel now but ephemera's enveloping warmth and the startling softness of his mouth.
it seems wrong that either of them could be capable of such softness. after everything they've done. everything they've seen.
his hand pulls his hair, hard. he breaks from their kiss for a tiny, shivering sip of air, bumping their foreheads together. the arm around his shoulders loosens, palm sliding flat down the center of his spine, nails bumping ridges of bone and the hollow spaces between each vertebra. this is spiraling. they've been spiraling. he wrenches him impossibly closer and kisses him again, recklessly frantic. )
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then his mouth, warm and inviting on felix's mouth, and it feels like the worst kind of mistake. a choice deliberately made, heedless of felix's warnings. the final nail in the coffin, then the worst thought of all, squirming restlessly beneath a roiling surface: that this is all he's wanted since he kissed him in the hallway. more than the violence, or in spite of it. more than his own gun under his chin.
felix turns his hand in his hair, curling his knuckles tight around oil-slick strands, and parts his mouth for ephemera's tongue. the taste is a little grainy, powdery dirt and oil and blood licked from ephemera's open mouth, from the backs of his teeth. he pricks his bottom lip, needle-sharp. they could be on the titanium floors of the tartarus, for all he knows, back when ephemera was just a tool to be used and deployed against his enemies. there's nothing to feel now but ephemera's enveloping warmth and the startling softness of his mouth.
it seems wrong that either of them could be capable of such softness. after everything they've done. everything they've seen.
his hand pulls his hair, hard. he breaks from their kiss for a tiny, shivering sip of air, bumping their foreheads together. the arm around his shoulders loosens, palm sliding flat down the center of his spine, nails bumping ridges of bone and the hollow spaces between each vertebra. this is spiraling. they've been spiraling. he wrenches him impossibly closer and kisses him again, recklessly frantic. )