( the crowd should be a deterrent. it isn't, and felix doesn't think it ever would've been, too obscenely shameless to care. fucking whore, he thinks. in the beginning of the end of days on reach, when the covenant began their siege on new alexandria and everything started unraveling to shit, felix needed to be held down more than ever. a little like now. his team had been off-limits until then. no kissing, no below-the-belt touching, no fucking. back when he had soft limits, some trembling sense of morality. anyone else. anyone else in that fucking city, on that fucking planet, just not them.
then the jiralhanae blew through countless civvies and marines alike on the first goddamn day. he shot an old man who'd been severed in half, still conscious, the only mercy he could spare him because no medic would waste their time on someone who wasn't going to survive when so many people were already dying. he lost his limits, blood slick on his hands, the 18th of august, and pulled ortez on top of him and begged him to –
( not him, isaac. anyone else in this fucking city. )
oh, god. his throat clenches. ephemera tightens his fist around his cock, and felix fucks into the slickness of his palm, hips twitching restlessly. it's not enough. it's too much. the noise is back, beating rhythmically in his ears. his head is a prison filling with water. he's drowning.
he twists his fingers in ephemera's hair and pulls his head back, dragging his tongue from his throat back to his mouth, kissing him again. his hand settles deeper into the crease between his ass and thigh, guiding him against him, a silent invitation for ephemera to fuck against his hip at his leisure. he's straining under his weight, muscles pulled taut and quivering as he presses away from the dirt into the warmth of ephemera's body, frantically eager. )
no subject
then the jiralhanae blew through countless civvies and marines alike on the first goddamn day. he shot an old man who'd been severed in half, still conscious, the only mercy he could spare him because no medic would waste their time on someone who wasn't going to survive when so many people were already dying. he lost his limits, blood slick on his hands, the 18th of august, and pulled ortez on top of him and begged him to –
( not him, isaac. anyone else in this fucking city. )
oh, god. his throat clenches. ephemera tightens his fist around his cock, and felix fucks into the slickness of his palm, hips twitching restlessly. it's not enough. it's too much. the noise is back, beating rhythmically in his ears. his head is a prison filling with water. he's drowning.
he twists his fingers in ephemera's hair and pulls his head back, dragging his tongue from his throat back to his mouth, kissing him again. his hand settles deeper into the crease between his ass and thigh, guiding him against him, a silent invitation for ephemera to fuck against his hip at his leisure. he's straining under his weight, muscles pulled taut and quivering as he presses away from the dirt into the warmth of ephemera's body, frantically eager. )