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duplicity inbox / cw for nsfw shenanigans.

TEXT / VOICE / VIDEO / ACTION
NOTE: felix generally responds to everything in text, even voice or video calls. expect 90% of his replies to be text-based regardless of urgency.

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[ He might tell Felix about the medical and implant scans he's done on Ephemera someday. Oh, who is he kidding, no he won't.

He's never been more curious about a scar than the one on Felix's back in his life.

He doesn't stay curious for long though. The palm grinding against his cock is nice and all but that touch doesn't have nearly the same novelty as having a hand in his hair. The intensity of sensation that comes from the grab and pull just heightens that and he groans, and meets the kiss.

He also reaches up at the same time and wraps a hand around Felix's throat. There's no huge amount of pressure, just enough that he can feel the other man's pulse in his fingertips. Absolutely dives into the kiss with his teeth as much as his tongue.

His free hand doesn't go to Felix's cock. It goes to his thigh, on the inside and rakes down toward his knee. Again just hard enough to raise heat and red lines.]

( felix pulse kicks just once, chest hitching slightly. instinctive, the brain and body responding to the stimuli and threat of crais' hand around his throat. he leans into it instead of away from it, chasing the pressure, and sucks on crais' tongue before his teeth turn needle-sharp on his mouth, scraping his bottom lip unkindly. his hand twists, wrapping his hair tight around his knuckles and angling his head further back in an urgent tug.

it exposes the length of crais' throat, puts his face nearly parallel with the ceiling, and grants felix full leverage and control over his mouth, his neck. he finds his pulse again, sinking his teeth into him until he tastes a faint hint of copper and unfurls his tongue into the mark, feverish and red with abuse.

the hand between his thighs shifts deeper against his cock, then drifts away, nails dragging a path up to his navel. )

I want you on the ground. ( just like that, his mouth goes soft again, a kittenish lick near his ear, beneath the lobe. he wants him somewhere flat, spread out for felix's hands, so he can look at him as he fills himself to the brim. that's half the fun. ) Or the bed, I don't care. Gentleman's choice. I'm gonna sit on your dick until you can't fucking think.

( lesson one: felix talks, always. the best part about choking him, past hook-ups would say, is that it shuts him the fuck up. )

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<s<small>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

<s<small>[ Crais yields to his head being pulled back - to a point that happens to be right about when Felix stops pulling - at which point the muscles along his spine. There's no active resistance just a refusal to give further outside some serious violence.

That tension, however, is aided by the bite he can <I>feel</i> breaking skin. That sends a jolt of heat through him, and his pupils darken just a little, cock jerking <I>hard</i> against Felix as his hand moves away.

Those nails are fantastic.

Then he blinks a couple of times to refocus his gaze and his mind, and stubbornly pushes Felix back with both hands. ]</small>

Bed <small>[ He is forty-five years old, he is not fucking on the floor. ]</small>, and not in my frelling pants. Now get off me so we can make that happen.

( frelling. there's that word again. such an oddly charming expletive. cute, even.

felix genuinely has no preference. floor, bed, whatever. he'll fuck in a dirty alley if it's convenient for him, sober or tanked. he releases crais' hair, dropping his hand to his shoulder, and hauls him up along with him as he rocks off the chair onto his feet.

he tilts his head toward him, curling his tongue under his top lip. )

Allow me.

( down on his knees, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of crais' trousers and pitching the fabric down his hips as he goes. he's methodic about it, practiced, like they're in the field and he's stripping crais to check for an injury. politely sets his trousers aside, then turns his face against his thigh and snags skin and muscle with his teeth, digging in hard. lots of arteries in the thighs, in a normal human. felix knows every one by heart and approximately how long it would take for someone to bleed out if severed or punctured. he wonders if crais' veins branch in a similar pattern.

he stops just short of breaking skin, one more mottled bruise to add to the list. crais responds prettily to biting. felix has already catalogued that away in his head as important information, good to know for later when he has his dick inside him. )

[ Similar, yes. The same, no. Too much variation in what he has in the way of internal organs (no kidneys, but an entirely different organ performing that task) and where they're located.

So, Felix's teeth definitely hurt and if Felix is looking for a pulse he'll find one, but not the strong, hot, throb that would be present in a human.

Crais is completely bemused to find himself pulled up and then Felix on his knees yanking Crais's pants down. This guy, he thinks to himself, is just a perpetual motion - and word - machine. Probably effective at keeping people thrown is also a thought, but one punctuated with exclamation marks and him grabbing Felix by the hair (well clear of the back of Felix's neck) when those teeth sink in. He lets it go a second then pulls Felix back a bit.

He needs the room to kick his trousers off.. ]

Bed.

( little bit of column a, little bit of column b. felix talks because he likes to talk, mostly, but also because it keeps people guessing and sets the ball rolling down the track of his choice. the simplest way to maintain control of a situation is by tweaking its parameters as it evolves, through either physical motion or verbal hooks. neurotic control freak, one of ortez's mercs called him once; felix punched him in the throat.

half the reason he never shuts up when he's facing down ephemera, really. he's too unpredictable of a fighter, tactically flexible where felix is physically flexible. a stick of dynamite with no stem, ready to explode in his face. as much as he'd never admit it aloud, he needs the leverage.

half the reason he's not shutting up here, too. crais is unpredictable in his own way. hard to read.

felix goes easily enough despite all of this, perfectly obliging. he unwinds to his feet and spins his gun back into his hand as he crosses the room to the bed. the mattress receives a firm, testing prod with the barrel of his gun. bouncy enough. seems okay, suitable for tonight's purposes.

idly, from over his shoulder: )

Do your drag your Dom along to all your dirty hook-ups, or am I just special?

[ Crais wouldn't be surprised if Felix shot the bed and called it testing the mattress.

He's more surprised that the gun's just being used to test the firmness, actually. Not that it shows.

He gets well clear of his clothes, deposits them onto the chair and then goes to the bed, crawls up it from the foot and then sprawls out on his back. Then and only then does he answer, and it's with a snort. ]

He goes where I ask him to go, and I'm sure you're some kind of special.

[ He holds a hand out, pointedly, and keeps not letting himself be easy to read. Because he does not trust this jackass further than he can throw him. ]

Let's hold hands and see who lets go first, this time.

( this motherfucker.

that almost gets a twitch out of felix. one fleeting, minuscule second of his eyes narrowing sharply on crais' face before he slides his hand across his palm, grips tight, and rolls on top of him. he throws his leg over his hip, spreading the hand holding the gun across his chest, thumbing along his clavicle around the frame. )

You seriously want me to hold this shit the whole fucking time? ( with a little exasperated rattle of the gun over his collar for emphasis. ) At least let me eject the mag.

( unless the threat of it gets him off, in which case felix is the last person to judge. )

[ Crais takes a firm grip on Felix' hand in return. Not exceptionally hard, just very solidly there at a level he knows he can maintain and that has room to tighten or loosen, should he choose.

He doesn't even look down at the gun until Felix moves it for emphasis and even then it's brief before he looks back up and smirks, just a little. ]

I'm not stopping you from ejecting the ammo. As for holding it - I'd probably consider that my free hand is designated for your throat, so if you want your dick touched someone needs a hand free.

( so very contemptuous: )

You have two hands last I checked, you insufferable smartass. You're the one pushing this handholding shit.

( one for choking him, the other for doing whatever the fuck needs to be done, but felix also isn't letting go until he lets go first. he leaves his gun on his chest, knees squeezing his hips and digging in hard as he leans across crais and stretches for the bedstand. his pinky catches the rim of a decorative bowl, tipping it sideways. a colorful array of foil packets cascade from the bowl, pouring onto the floor, and felix snags one from mid-air between two fingers.

he sits back on crais' thighs, ripping the packet with his teeth and blowing the scrap of foil into the air. not a condom, just lube, squeezed slippery and cool into his palm. )

I'll just use your dick to get off, then.

[ See? Felix has a perfectly good read on Crais; insufferable smartass is accurate.]

But you aren't letting go, are you?

[ Neither is Crais. They might be locked together until the end of time - or until it stops serving Crais' purposes, which is not now.

He rakes his nails down from the base of Felix's throat to his naval, while the guy's fumbling around for lube. Hard enough, again, to raise red lines but not enough to be really satisfying, probably.

And outright laughs at that remark. ]

Using my dick to get off. How terrible. I don't know how how I'll survive it.

( it's enough to be somewhat satisfying, muscles in his abdomen reflexively twitching as crais' nails rake all the way down. he feels the burn of it nearest to his throat, his skin hot and flushing.

but that particular snippet of sarcasm receives a snort and exaggerated roll of his eyes. felix glides his hand over crais' thigh, between his legs to squeeze his fingers around his cock and strip him down with lube. he's thorough but quick, business-like, forming a loose fist that's not worth fucking into. )

You're absolutely right. Your wiseass mouth is probably better suited for it. Fucking cocksucker.

( crais is lucky he's pretty. )

Put your hand on my throat.

[ Crais trails his hand the last few inches, wraps around Felix's cock and without preamble sticks his thumbnail into the slit. ]

If you want to risk having it bitten off, you are welcome to take that option, but I really wouldn't recommend it.

[ His hackles are actually a bit up. Not in a serious way, but there are some edges showing there and it's the result not of the cocksucker comment but the order -

That he is not following.

Yet. ]

( oh, did that actually hit a little tiny nerve?

hard to tell for sure, especially when crais touches his cock and felix stops thinking entirely for a few short, electric seconds. he exhales sharply as his hips jerk into his hand, chasing the dry friction of his cock over crais' palm. )

You officer types. ( while crais turns his sharpened edges on him, felix's edges flip from scathing to soft and silky in a blink, his voice thick like honey between hitched breaths. he knocks the gun off his chest, onto the mattress next to crais' elbow, and grips him by the hair roughly. ) My bad, sir. You'd think after a decade of racking up demerits for insubordination I'd learn to respect my superiors, but I guess some lessons just don't stick no matter how many times you're beaten over the head with them.

( he hauls crais' upright, spreading his thighs and sliding closer to straddle him properly, settling his weight in his lap. the hand that was at his dick a few seconds earlier skims his chest, nails curving around his pec and raking his collar, nearly drawing blood. )

I came here to get fucked up, so fuck me up and put your goddamn hand around my neck. ( and then, with a little goading lick to his mouth: ) Captain.

[ Crais's expression shifts back to sharp again, even with the sting of nails dragging over his skin, and the way the heat of that and the hand in his hair goes straight to his cock.

Why? Because of the overt manipulation, combined with the order, and what that statement about wanting fucked up reveals. Particularly when it is sharply contrasted against 'always armed' and 'at least let me eject the mag' and what went into this meeting to start with.

He grabs Felix by the throat and grabs him hard - hard enough that there will be bruises and is cutting off air - but the placement and pressure are both very precisely controlled.

His other hand tightens around Felix's, in a grip that's not going to bruise but does grind bond against bone. Also deliberately decided and delivered.]

Respect isn't what you need to learn. [ Faint growl in his voice, but he's not actually angry. He is performing, now. ]

( respect, actual self-control and discipline instead of the house of cards he's built up around himself, what it means to be humbled. whatever. he's not learning any of it regardless of what it is, and he gets what he wants, anyway: crais' hand around his throat, squeezing on bone and muscle. his pulse beats sharp against crais' palm, chest fluttering on a quick inhale that doesn't quite reach his lungs.

his hand drags back into crais' hair, teeth on his bottom lip. fuck if he doesn't like that growl, too. he doesn't know or care if it's a performance, doesn't even think about it, barreling down a quick slope into thoughtlessness and instinct. move. touch. kiss. fuck. ride his goddamn dick. chase the high until he hits the sun and crashes back to earth.

he curls against crais' body, lifting himself on his knees and pressing flush to his chest, cock caught against his abdomen. a little more complicated doing all of this one-handed, but crais has an iron grip on his hand, and felix isn't about to squirm away from it. one more sharp tug to crais' hair, then he releases him, guiding crais' cock to the snug cleft of his ass with slick, sticky fingers.

his knees close tight into crais' hips, a grinding vise keeping him stable and steady. he doesn't do anything else, doesn't fuck down on him yet, just rolls his hips and focuses on the wet slide of crais' cock against him. )

Did Ephemera not tell you? ( his voice comes soft, throttled into an airy pitch under pressure. it'll be hard to say anything soon. felix watches him through a dark sliver in his lashes and rubs his nose along his jaw, tongue curling under his earlobe. ) I'm a slow learner.

[ Crais strongly suspects that between the slick, tight, heated grip of Felix's ass wrapped around his cock and that obnoxious voice in his ear, he's 'supposed' to lose control. He's supposed to tighten his hand further, or hit Felix or otherwise up the ante just a little bit more.

That isn't going to happen.

There are rules, here.

He loosens his grip on Felix's throat, enough for the guy to catch an actual breath or two and then turns his head toward the obscene mouth.]

You haven't come up.

[ Then closes his fingers again to cut off air and bites Felix' lower lip exactly hard enough to draw blood, before sliding his tongue over the bite marks.

He doesn't move his hips at all. ]

( 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. )

[ The only two thoughts in Crais' head between the hand in his hair and the way Felix is sinking down onto his cock are 'oh fuck yes' and making sure he does not tighten either hand any further than they already are.

If he did something really dangerous in here, Cyram would teleport in just to kick his ass into next year, and that is especially true of anything evenly loosely classed under breath play.

He'd deserve it.

His hips arch up and push deeper into the heat and friction with a soft snarl that pulls his lips back away from his teeth.

He keeps his hand around Felix's throat but loosens it just a little. Enough for Felix to breathe, but not so much that he can't dig his thumbnail into that spot on Felix's throat that the pulse is closest to the skin. Not so close he can't feel the swallow.

It's intoxicating in a way. Arousing, erotic, and... a kind of emotional and mental release for him to just fuck.]

( crais' grip around his throat slackens but the idle threat remains, his hummingbird pulse caged neatly beneath his thumb. it's a maddening tease, not one he'd normally tolerate in most casual encounters, and felix nearly tightens his hand in his hair to breathlessly demand that he do it again, harder. the impulse dies when crais shifts his hips, slots his cock deeper, thoroughly filling him. felix arches his shoulders and tilts his head back in response, straining his throat into crais' palm until he feels the weight of it against his windpipe.

he stares at the ceiling, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. )

Fuck. ( his voice is tight, hot. every thought in his head deafens into a shrill decibel he can't understand. there's just the churning ache of being fucked open, clenching down on crais' cock as his thighs squeeze around him and his hips stutter into jerky stillness. better than whiskey sometimes, how naturally he lets this shit fuck him up.

his inaction is temporary, a fluttering moment to wholly appreciate the deep seat of his cock inside him. he braces his elbow on crais' shoulder, anchoring him by the hair, then tilts his mouth toward him and drags his teeth over his tongue before he kisses him hard. almost always in motion, especially here, leveraging his weight into his chest and following the momentum down; he shoves crais' back flush to the bed and pins his hand, still entwined in felix's hand, above his head and flexes his thumb into his palm. )

[ Dominant Masochist - if only because of insecurity and paranoia and being dysfunctional as a person and a total control freak - meet the Submissive Sadist (and masochist).

This isn't new to Crais. It isn't even the most extreme thing he's done for someone who needed it. Recognizing that doesn't mean he is doing anything he doesn't want to do - like engage in things that are really dangerous, deliberately or through loss of control- but he's not uncomfortable with letting Felix have control and make demands.

He relaxes back into the bed when he's pinned down by the elbow and his hair is yanked harder. His cock gets harder inside Felix with a heated throb. He lets his arm go back and get pinned down without resistance and ignores the thumb sliding in against his palm.

He bites back into the kiss, drawing just enough blood to flavor both of their mouths with copper.

He also tightens his hand around Felix's throat again, cutting off air, and accompanies that by grinding up into Felix.]

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