![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. |
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. |
no subject
felix has leverage on top of him, but ephemera has weight and width, and he can't hold the same position long enough to subdue him unless he gets him in a chokehold. no good fucking way to end this fight.
then ephemera nails him in the head and sends him reeling. his vision starbursts into blinding white. fuck, he hits hard. his direct blows are worse than his teeth in his skin, and felix has blood all over him now, running down his throat and collar, spattered across his bruised knuckles. his thighs squeeze ephemera's hips reflexively as he feels himself nearly topple sideways, recovering with a woozy, wounded little sound.
he sways forward instead, bracing his hand above ephemera's head. hard to think. feels like a valium high, close to euphoria. good. not enough, but nothing is. ephemera is so fucking warm, and he's got his blood in his mouth again. )
You still hit like a bitch. Fucking do something.
( his coordination has gone to shit. felix doesn't often take direct hits unless he's been caught off guard, not when he's out of armor. he's won every bar fight he's ever picked only because he's a terror who smashes beer bottles into weaponizable shards. people very rarely expect some ballistic asshole to come at them with a shard of glass, slicing his own hand to ribbons in the process. he has a scar to prove it, silvery and jagged, extending from middle finger to wrist on his right hand.
no glass here. no knives, either. no fucking weight advantage. that's fine. it's all fine.
he still winds back and punches him again, sloppy but committed. maybe he'll get lucky and break his nose a third time. )
no subject
Not nearly enough. And Felix staring down at him like -
What? Like it’s a fucking game.
Ephemera bares his teeth. He takes the blow to the face and the world goes numb, but he doesn’t drop. He sways but he doesn’t fucking drop. ]
Not good enough.
[ He doesn’t touch Felix’s implant - they agreed, or maybe Felix just tossed it out there like a mercy - but Ephemera doesn’t bother holding back. He boxes Felix’s ears, hard, and then he goes for his eyes again. Vicious this time. Like it matters.
It ought to. This is too slow and Ephemera thinks that’s going to drive him even crazier. This isn’t right. He needs his armor and this isn’t right. ]
no subject
he juts his fist into his throat hard, then hooks ephemera's arm under his elbow and twists into another roll. it puts ephemera back on top of him, and felix's throat slopes into an arch, wrenching ephemera by the forearm and slotting his heavy palm around his exposed neck.
not good enough is right. it never is with ephemera. he's always left wanting more. )
Let me fucking help you, then. ( his voice is a distant, faraway echo. he can't think clearly, all his nerves firing off at rapid speed, overwhelming him. he deliriously thinks of price and his cool, detached recounting of agent maine's fate. his rig was his coffin. he drowned. felix has never drowned before, but this kind of feels like drowning. ) You want it to stop, Ephemera? Make me fucking stop.
( how many fucking times does he have to tell him how easy it is. how many fucking mercies is he going to spare him. how long until felix loses his goddamn mind like ortez, like ephemera, like every drifting ghost that came back from the war wrong.
no. remember that you've always been wrong. that's the only irrefutable truth in the universe. he just always was. an anomaly. an act of god. a terrible mistake.
he knuckles ephemera's hair at his nape and jerks him down, knocking their foreheads together, slick with blood and oil. )
I'll ruin your life. You stupid motherfucker. I'll burn that shit to the ground.
( everything he's built since his arrival to duplicity, every shred of normalcy he's painstakingly dragged from a cold and frozen ground and made his. he'll light it up. he'll swallow it down. he'll devour him like he was going to devour chorus, gorge himself to the brim, and it still won't fill him or make him whole because what's inside him isn't hollowness but a sprawling, hungry black hole. nothing escapes the singularity.
felix hiccups on a slow, shuddering breath, damp lashes fluttering closed as he rolls his forehead against ephemera. ) Stop being such a goddamn disappointment.
no subject
This is happening. It shouldn't be.
The flip. The world tilts, goes crooked around the edges, and Felix has him by the hair again. Wrenching him down until their foreheads crack together and -
Oh, Ephemera thinks, and goes very still. He tastes blood in his mouth, in his throat.
For a moment, he doesn't breathe. Because that -
It's familiar, that gesture. A kindness, in another context. With his team, his family. They couldn't hold each other in the field, not with their armor and with plasma rifles raining down on them, but they could bump their helmets together. A reminder. I've got you, my brother, my sister. Breathe.
Ephemera shifts. He ought to go for Felix's throat, his eyes, something. Maybe even get his hands around Felix's throat and snap his neck. End this. The angle isn't good but he's worked with worse. He's done this before. Armored, unarmored, it really doesn't matter.
Instead, he puts his hand over the back of Felix's neck. Shielding the implant. ]
Breathe.
[ Unlike before, his voice is calm. Hoarse, but calm. ]
no subject
he waits for a hit, then. like in the hallway, the snap of a pistol across his face and taste of gunmetal in his mouth. instead ephemera's hand sits heavily over the back of his neck, palm cupping his implant, and felix twitches under him. )
Don't. ( quiet and cornered, tight. please don't. i'm not like that. i'm not like you. did you not hear what i fucking said? don't. you'll suffer for this, too.
history repeats itself.
his fist loosens in his hair, fingertips skimming the back of ephemera's neck, ghosting his implant like the featherlight brush of a caress. he hooks his arm around ephemera's shoulders, pulls him down tight against him, until his weight grounds him into the dirt and they're pressed limb-to-limb, heartbeat to heartbeat. focus. where are you? duplicity. the up. the festival. a ring. there's a crowd. you're exposed. you're losing your shit. shut it down.
he can't. it's too late. he drops his head, mouth touching the muscled tendon where ephemera's shoulder slopes into his throat. his body is an anchor over him, holding him down, and that's more wrong than anything. that skims too close to a hurt that'll never heal. he thinks of ortez in ephemera's detailed sketch.
oh, fuck. )
Ephemera. ( fuck. he grips him tighter, viselike, lifting his head and pressing their faces close, sliding his nose against ephemera's nose. ) Please fucking don't.
no subject
Not much, though. Not much at all. Oil slips through his hair, falling into his good eye. Fucking with his vision. Felix has an arm around him, pulling them flush to each other. This time, there's no violence. Felix could bite him, tear out his throat, dig his nails into Ephemera's implant.
Could. Doesn't.
Hah. This, Ephemera thinks, is probably what it feels like to lose your mind. When you know it's happening. When you feel it slipping away, inch by inch. Felix tightens his grip and Ephemera just breathes out. He feels strangely calm. Like there's a gun to his head.
Metaphorically, he supposes there is. He presses his forehead to Felix's and just breathes out slow. ]
Stop. Just breathe.
no subject
maybe it's ephemera's weight on top of him. his voice, bizarrely calm and centered, the only noise in felix's head. it doesn't make any fucking sense. nothing about this shit makes any semblance of sense, he'd said. ephemera is no good to him, so dispose of him. let him go. cut him loose and move on.
why is that so fucking impossible?
felix breathes. his teeth chatter violently, muscles twitching as his chest flutters through the inhale. back out, a second later. it doesn't feel natural.
his free hand moves between them, splaying flat on ephemera's collar. over his tattoo. redemption, scrawled in black ink across his skin, streaked in a shiny mix of blood and oil. he hadn't been able to reach it in the hallway, ephemera's shirt and jacket in the way. his breath fans ephemera's mouth as he exhales again. ephemera, indebted to his sins. felix, the sower of sins. he won't find redemption in felix.
he drags his hand up his neck, cupping ephemera's scarred cheek and rubbing his thumb over his prosthetic eye. his thumb drags his lashes, uselessly smearing away the oil, sliding along his brow to his temple, then across his forehead into his hairline.
where are you? tribute. reach. chorus. duplicity. he doesn't remember. it doesn't matter. )
If you don't get the fuck off me, I'm going to kiss you again. ( soft, but matter-of-fact, as if felix isn't gripping him tightly, halfway to desperate, like he needs to be held the fuck down or he'll float right out of his body. )
no subject
Funny thing is, he doesn't flinch. Not even when Felix drags his thumb across the surface of Ephemera's fake eye, smearing blood and oil in his wake. This is insane. It's the calmest he's felt in a very long time. Things just -
Slot into place. Like the middle of a drop. Nothing to do but wait it out, no point in panicking or wasting oxygen. Felix stares up at him and Ephemera watches him in turn, and it wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't.
But it is.
Ephemera watches Felix for a moment, his thoughts slowed to a calm trickle, and then leans in and kisses him first. ]
no subject
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. )
no subject
They have an audience, is the thing. A crowd pressing close, expectations lined up like enemy targets. He keeps his hand on Felix's neck, shielding the implant. That feels important.
Breathe, soldier.
Oddly, he's calm. Oddly, Felix isn't.
Ephemera leans in close and kisses him again. Harder this time, dragging his teeth along Felix's lip. He doesn't draw blood. ]
no subject
except he does, and that's the problem.
the part of him that knows better, that tried to tell him don't do this in the hallway, has gone eerily silent. no second chances for him anymore, abandoning him to his fate. felix thinks oh, fuck, and wait, but this time, he pulls ephemera down instead of rolling him away from him. his hand drifts from his back, elbow knocking his arm where he has himself braced above him, to drop ephemera's weight and roughly drag him fully on top of him. closer. )
Fuck. ( a little choked and wildly senseless, shakily hitched against ephemera's mouth. he tilts his head back; the arena swims into an upside-down view, shadowy faces staring back at him impassively. it's both surreal and the most real fucking thing he's felt in a long time. back to ephemera, kissing him deep, then he arches his back and slots their limbs together, rubs into him obscenely slow and firm. )
no subject
It feels insane. Maybe it is. Maybe they both are.
It feels inevitable, too. Felix rubs against him and Ephemera breathes out slow. doesn't flinch away. He doesn't know if he can get hard like this, with a crowd watching. But Felix feels good, solid and warm, and he leans in and just kisses him again. Keeps one hand cupped around the back of his neck - always, always shielding the implant - and runs the other down his collarbone, skipping over scars and new bruises. They tore into each other. They always do.
Fuck.
He takes a slow, steadying breath, then presses his mouth to Felix's throat and drags his teeth down. Not enough to draw blood, not like before. But enough to feel. ]
no subject
the strangeness is in ephemera allowing it. pity. mercy, like the mercy felix has repeatedly offered him. as if he deserves it.
ephemera drags his teeth down his throat, scraping his pulse. felix jerks under him, and he can't hear himself but he feels the sound he makes in response, a low whine that turns ragged at the edges. he pulls at ephemera's hair, guiding his head back toward him, and licks his bottom lip. )
Hey. ( he sounds deceptively calm, but his heart betrays him, thudding like a hammer behind his ribcage. he eases his body into the dirt, away from the deliciously slick and tempting press of ephemera on top of him. his hand moves from ephemera's hair as he reaches back to where he's guarding his implant, worming his fingers under ephemera's fingers.
he finds his implant with his fingertips and digs in, where the pressure burns most. it immediately goes to his head, verging on excruciating. sometimes liquor or pills don't work. sometimes he has neither. next best option is this. letting the pain take him under. )
You're all good, Terrence. ( it's okay. it's fine, you don't have to do this for me of all fucking people. he stares at him through his lashes, angling his thumb above his implant. ) I'll call it.
no subject
The calm feeling settles in him. If anything, it grows.
He leans forward and presses his forehead to Felix's. An old, comforting gesture. ]
Don't.
[ His voice is soft. Calm, as he links his fingers with Felix's. Tugging them away from his implant. ]
Don't do that.
[ This is insane. And yet.
Hah.
He breathes out slow and drags his free hand down along Felix's ribs. And then lower, settling over his hip. ]
no subject
it is too slow. too purposeful. slowest anyone felix has ever let him touch him since his arrival to duplicity, unfolding like a fucking disaster he can't or doesn't want to escape. he shivers, slipping his hand from ephemera's and curving his fingers around his bicep, right over his ring of tattoos.
don't do that, he says, nightmarishly earnest. the edge topples closer, so felix falls. )
I'd let you. ( with a coaxing lick into his mouth, squeezing his bicep once before he returns his hand to his hair and fists hard. he would've let him kill him. he would've let him strip him from his armor and rut him mindlessly into the ground right in that fucking hallway. he would've let him take it as far as he wanted. he would've let him fuck him. can't take that back, he thinks vaguely.
the hand at ephemera's back slides lower, palm circling the sloping dimple of his sacrum and continuing down, curving under his ass. he grips a handful of flesh and drags ephemera's hips flush against him as he strains into another arch, grinds into him fully. his mouth tracks his jaw, his throat, teeth digging into his pulse and biting deeply. it'll bruise, leave a mark. )
no subject
This is different. There's a weight to it that Ephemera doesn't have words for. Ephemera breathes out slow as Felix digs his teeth in, bites down.
No blood this time. But it's a promise all the same. Ephemera rocks against him in turn, matching him, and presses a hand between them. Ghosting over Felix's stomach and whatever scars he finds there, and then lower to get a grip on him. Why the fuck not? It's one of those moments. The corners shaved off, the world tilted on its access.
Breathe, soldier.
He breathes. His hands are slick. There's oil and blood digging under his nails, in the mix. Despite the crowd, despite everything, he wants it. Wants this. So, why the fuck not? ]
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. )
no subject
Things are quiet now. He feels like he's under deep water. Settled, but not drowning. He doubts it will last. These things never do. He can feel Felix twitching against him, his hand still tight in Ephemera's hair. Shaking.
Fuck. Ephemera breathes out slow, deliberately, and rocks against Felix. He times it to the motions of his hand. Setting a rhythm. Something steady.
Something ought to be right now. ]
no subject
he sucks on ephemera's tongue, dragging his hand through his hair. that groan fucks him up. he sounds good, he looks good, he feels fucking good, and that's all this has to be, just a moment among a hundred other moments in felix's life. a meaningless fuck. he doesn't have to fucking choke over it, but he is, but he will, because he'll go back to his apartment and think about this later – over and over and over, habitually – until it rots him inside.
his thighs spread, fitting neatly around ephemera's hips and squeezing lightly. an unspoken warning, because two seconds later his hand drops from his hair to his shoulder, and he flips them, rolling ephemera under him and up, until he's seated with felix settled deep in his lap. his hand returns to his hair. he licks into his mouth, catches his bottom lip with his teeth and tugs sharply. forces him close, so he can't look away or out into the crowd.
between them, his hand fists loosely around his cock and ephemera's, slotting them together into a slick, tight alignment. his next exhale buzzes through him, too loud as he folds his thighs around his hips and rocks against him. )
no subject
It feels good. Ephemera rocks against him, biting off another groan. Fuck, it feels good. Earlier, he didn't think he could come like this. Now -
Hah.
He runs his free hand through Felix's hair, shifting down to rest on the back of his neck. Shielding the implant, again.
It feels important. ]
no subject
his hand twists where they're joined at the hips, dragging his thumb along a vein on ephemera's cock and circling his slit, shiny-wet with oil. his fingers are long and thin, deft as the rest of him, and while he can't jerk them both off as easily as someone like sam might, he keeps them fixed together as he rocks into him. the slippery, frictious slide of their bodies so close is enough to get them off. he wants to feel him. he wants more than this.
ephemera's hand on the back of his neck only partially succeeds in keeping his mind from wandering to a dangerously rocky precipice. i'd let you. fuck. what is he doing.
his hand drags free of ephemera's hair, loosely circling his throat and angling his thumb under his jaw, pushing his head back for felix's descending mouth. he licks a smear of blood from his chin, all the way to his bottom lip, breath fanning hot and ragged against him. )
Fuck. You're so fucking pretty like this. ( hot and tight, close to a breathy whine. can't shut the fuck up. can't take that back, either. he would've killed this man a hundred times over, and now he's curled into his lap, letting him touch his fucking implant like it's nothing, like he lets anyone do it. felix rubs his thumb over ephemera's lip, hooking over his teeth to coax his mouth open and licking deep, chasing the metallic tang of blood. )
no subject
Ephemera tips his head back, going where Felix guides him. Lets himself be directed, shivering a little as Felix works his hand. Works them both. There’s enough pressure and slick to make it interesting and he just -
Goes with it. This is happening, inevitable as gravity during a drop. Ephemera parts his mouth and watches Felix, rocking against him.
He could come like this. He will. ]
Fuck.
[ It comes out soft. His gaze never leaves Felix. ]
no subject
his grip between them eases as felix ducks his head, spits into his palm to work the slide into an even slicker one. he bypasses his cock entirely and wraps firm around ephemera instead, twisting his wrist in a sharp, building rhythm, an unrelenting fist for ephemera to fuck and buck into. this is fucking crazy. he wants him to come. he wants to lick his fingers clean like he's a fucking decadence. whore. whore. whore. you're out of your fucking mind, gates. )
Come on. ( his voice is soft, coaxing, murmured into ephemera's mouth. he watches him through his lashes, forehead knocking ephemera's lightly. his hand stays in a loose circle low on his throat, thumb slanted into his pulse. ) Ephemera. ( his tongue drags the curve of his teeth, his top lip, touching the deep scars near the corner of his mouth. ) Please.
no subject
It’s sincere. Ephemera’s a terrible liar but Felix isn’t. It could be a trick, could so easily be a game, but it isn’t. They’re too close now, Felix’s hand around his throat, his thumb pressed against Ephemera’s pulse. This is real. They bloodied each other and now, in the aftermath, things have gone —
Quiet.
Ephemera makes a small sound. His hand never leaves the back of Felix’s neck. Always, always shielding the implant. His other skips over scars, bruises, tracing out Felix’s outline with callused fingertips. Please, Felix said, and he feels good like this. His weight over Ephemera, his goddamn hands. The way that he licks into Ephemera’s mouth and over his goddamn scars. It feels good and so little does these days.
But right now, there’s no pain at all. There’s just the two of them and this pressure. The way that Felix works him.
Ephemera leans in and kisses Felix hard. And he does what he’s told. One moment he’s fucking into Felix’s hand and the next it’s like a wave breaking. Crashing into the surf. He tenses, and then goes still.
Goddamn. ]
no subject
i told you, he could say. he doesn't. he rolls his forehead against ephemera's then tilts back in his lap, drawing his hand away from his softening cock. cum streaks his wrist, parallel to the scar that extends from his palm, and felix flattens his tongue against it, licks it clean all the way to the tip of his index finger. watches ephemera through all of it, sharp-eyed as a cat.
he's still hard. painfully. but felix isn't so far gone not to realize that this is where shit usually turns south.
i guess i win, he thinks numbly, and thoughtlessly leans in to kiss ephemera again, pushing the taste of cum and blood and oil into his mouth. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)