ZOMBIES SUCK XOXO

an  assortment  of  prompts  for  VAMPIRE  muses,  both  sender  &&  receiver,  or  those  of  whom  are  plagued  by  other  such  bloody  afflictions  –  with  elements  of  discovery,  partnership  despite  differences,  fear,  secrets,  &&  more.  mature  themes  such  as  death,  illness,  blood,  gore,  &&  other  related  content  may  be  present.  adjust  as  needed!  send  [  REVERSE ]  to  switch  the  roles  of  sender  &&  receiver.  feel  free  to  combine  action  +  dialogue  for  the  best  results!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 , 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 .

HUMAN  .

“are  you…  human?”

“you're  not  human.”

“what  are  you?”

“I  know  you  are,  don't  lie  to  me.”

“let  me  help.”

“helping  you  makes  me  feel  important.  please?  I  don't  mind.”

“you  won't  hurt  me.”

“do  you  kill  people?”

“you're  a  monster.”  /  “you're  not  a  monster.”

“I  can't  believe  I  trusted  you.”

“why  didn't  you  tell  me??”

“I  don't  want  to  let  you  go!”

“will  you  please  stay  with  me?”

“I  don't  want  your  protection.”

“I  might  be  human,  but  I'm  not  weak.”

“I  don't  want  a  normal  life.  I  want  you.”

“you  need  blood,  don't  you?  here.”

“do  you  miss  it?  being  human?”

“no,  no,  no…  this  can't  be  real.”

“have  you  just  been  using  me?”

“will  you  turn  me?”  /  “why  won't  you  turn  me?”

“I  don't  want  to  see  you  again.”

“I  still  think  there's  good  in  you.”

“don't  talk  like  that.  you're  a  good  person.”

“I'm  safe  with  you.  I  know  that.”

“you  won't  hurt  me.”

VAMPIRE  .

“no…  I'm  not  human.”

“what  do  you  think?”

“I  didn't  want  you  to  know.”

“I  tried  to  hide  it.  you  weren't  supposed  to  know.”

“I  won't  apologize  for  what  I  am.”

“careful!  I  wouldn't  want  to  hurt  you.”

“It  isn't  so  bad.”

“I'm  not  hungry.”

“I  don't  want  to  hurt  you.”

“I'll  be  sad  to  see  you  go…  but  I  can't  let  you  live.”

“you  can't  fix  me.”

“I  don't  want  you  to  try  to  fix  me.  I'm  not  broken.”

“you're  just  a  human.  what  can  you  do?”

“I'll  protect  you.”

“let  me  protect  you.”

“I'll  never  age,  I'll  never  get  sick.  I  can't  give  you  a  normal  life.”

“I  won't  take  from  you.”

“I  don't  miss  it.”  /  “I  miss  it.”

“I  know  I  lied…  but  I  couldn't  tell  you  the  truth.”

“I  never  wanted  you  to  find  out  this  way.”

“please…  talk  to  me.”

“I  didn't  mean  to  scare  you.”

“I've  killed  plenty  of  people.”

“I  only  kill  animals.  I  wouldn't  hurt  a  human.”

“please  believe  me,  I'm  not  a  monster.”

“there's  nothing  good  left  in  me.”

there's at least a thousand and one better ways he could be spending his night than metaphorically nursing the bottom of a bottle. he's not even that much of a drinker, and thank god for that—none of this crap would be enough to even give him a buzz if he went out searching for it. somehow that makes his being here all the more tragic when he's half slumped over the counter, taking long, slow sips when only in immediate eyeshot ; and hoping he won't lose a finger for the other half splashed out beside him. the noise in here's mostly loud enough to mute the sound. he's been betting for the past half hour at least that if he could coax her over enough that she'd eventually decide her time's better spent holding a conversation than ignoring him—one he's thrilled actually seems to be finally paying off.

" you're killing me here, mox, and now you're cutting me off? " he's not actually anywhere near as disappointed as the slight whine in his voice suggests ; he's already spent half this night practically wearing puppy eyes 'cross the bar, and he'd only dropped the act once to let his head fall against the countertop with a hefty thud for the five minutes he'd nearly given up—not that even that lasted either. he was right back to it, the moment he heard her heels gradually click closer, peering out from the crook of his arm with eyes wide and wet. " whatever. i can't believe anyone's out here drinking this crap anyway—guh. " so he says, the moment he shoots the rest of it back. can't exactly dump it out right in front of her, but it doesn't feel good on the way down, face contorted in equal parts disgust and anguish 'like.

not that his displeasure is granted a long life. she sighs, and his eyes shoot up in an instant to watch her as she swings herself over the counter—really, he should have bragging rights to be allowed to call her an ex proper ; there's not many people that lucky, but knowing as much doesn't make his heart hurt any less the closer she draws ... then pulls away.

he should be offended. and yet! like a dog on a leash, he's promptly out of his seat and trailing after her, step-by-step. if he had a tail, it'd be wagging. " god, it's about time. i was starting to think you'd never ask, " to his credit, he hasn't lost all his charms, despite how much time he'd spent sulking the last few hours, jack has no hesitation when it comes to taking her hand, nor how swiftly he lifts it up to his lips to kiss the back of. " you mind saying that last part one more time? for old time's sake. "

jack's only ever as charming as the mood he's in, and he is rarely in a good mood ... at least, in the wake of their separation. it hadn't exactly been amicable! pardon her for being surprised he's so eager to spend his time openly nursing his wounds in front of her when they so often come at each - other's throats in the interim. moxxi's not an idiot ; every man who's ever lost her has lost something greater than the whole of pandora. her ego's a well - earned one by comparison of his ... not often she gets to see them appropriately mourn her, though. the first two had been a hot mess ... at least jack's mostly just a mess.

doesn't leave her any less impressed when his more pathetic attributes present themselves. they're cute in the right context! here, she barely manages to keep from rolling her eyes into the back of her skull. he comes running over with his tail tucked between his legs just like she knew he would. always eager to please, for the right person. handsome jack's a lot less intimidating when he's acting like she'd put him down out back.

"oh, you've got it bad, sweetheart. try not to drool all over my shoes. there's not enough money in the whole galaxy to win that kind of pride back." she's cool - headed as ever, her opposing hand raising to rest 'gainst her waist as he presses his lips to the back of the one she'd offered him. the rest of the bar's thick with its tension, and that's always her favorite part. why can't it be them instead ; it's funny watching local bandits get their panties in a twist over wanting attention. jack's like salt to their wounds ... moxxi's not a nice woman. "sorry, i don't waste time dwelling on the past. i live in the here and now, so enjoy what you get while you're getting it."

she twists his hand 'round to step further 'way from the bar, dragging him along as she does. the time she spends with her back to him is short - lived once she's deemed there's enough space between them and anything they could possibly hip check, though — she spins back to him with her other hand held out after. "you wanna pretend you're a class act down here with all us lesser bandits, why don't you help me practice my little dance for tina's next story night? you do know how to dance, right, ' kitten ' ?"

for someone in his position, he's precious few amicable bonds to name. he thinks he could put them all on one hand, and even then, there's fewer still if he breaks down who and what among those are strictly business. honestly, he doesn't think anyone could fault him for keeping his circle so small—as far as his lived experience has gone to show, most of his 'friends' were swift to stab him in the back as soon as it served them better ; so why should he bother to maintain them if all he was gonna get for his effort was a knife in the back 'cause their coward asses didn't have the guts to go for the throat? at least when he hated someone, he made his feelings forthright.

that makes kale vandelay then, an incredible exception.

" right there in the fine print. you should really make a habit of reading it, some fascinating stuff in there sometimes. " this is a much warmer reception than where they'd started not all that long ago. his simpler rejections sound less scornful ; more importantly, they're enough to draw a few small chuffs from jack himself—in some lesser amusement. but entertainment's also come few and far between, he's really not in any position these days to pick and choose where he finds it. and if he didn't enjoy it even a little bit, he wouldn't bother picking himself up to make this trip in the first place. not a single one of these islands make themselves easy to get to ; he can hazard a guess that's how they've been so successful in building themselves up, but it makes for a real pain in the ass whenever he wants to arrange a day trip. still, it's nice, savoring the life of luxury with fair company with a considerable lack of gunfire and shouting filling up the airwaves as the minutes tick away into hours.

he doesn't know what he'd call this, or him. it's not like he knows anything about making friends ... maybe this is what it's like, settling comfortably into the boring stuff. metaphorically clinking glasses to make a toast for a fulfilling future, or some other cliche garbage similar. he likes it, though. and him, somehow—he thinks he's gotten almost fond of the furrow 'tween his brow, watching how much more his expression can crinkle while his own smile grows wider. " what're you talking about? i'm being serious here! c'mon, " well, it never takes much to get him out of his seat. he'd swiped a much ... stronger coffee from one of the bots that wandered by, spending the last half hour or so slowly sipping on it to help loosen up—clearly, it's been working. fun and recreational! he's up on his feet with the drink half-empty, reaching over to plant one hand firmly 'gainst kale's desk while holding his glass high with the other, " cheers to two handsome men who've got the world on their shoulders, and still choose to wake up each morning and kick ass anyway. "

he knew before he'd even opened his mouth that he'd invited some form of jack's incredible wit, only he hadn't the mind to stop himself from doing so before it was too late ; there's little surprise in the exasperation kale immediately meets him with. even if the agitation is of a lighter heart, he is very easy to get on the nerves of when really all it takes is someone in the same room as them opening their mouths. jack likes to hear himself talk more than literally any other person he's ever had the displeasure of making acquaintance with, and given the company he kept ... there is steep competition from mimosa and zanzo alone. appearances are deceiving, when it's kale himself who prefers to approach things with a quieter nuance versus those who just say the silent parts aloud.

"very charming. is your charisma natural or do you sit in your office rehearsing lines for the perfect moment to use them?" his own sense of humor is much, much drier. he's never quite able to fully shake the sarcasm from his demeanor even if he's not particularly agitated. perhaps it comes with the thirty - odd years under his belt spent in rooms with people who were much, much dumber than himself. not that he would put his current company on such a low ladder ... begrudging as he'd be to admit it, jack is an intelligent man — certainly smart enough not to be making trips out to the islands this frequently over things that either could've been sent electronically or just weren't issues at all.

hyperion and vandelay both are hardly known for being frequent on their collaborations with other companies ; he certainly hasn't sought out council from atlas whilst expanding his social graces. and yet, here they are, with their metaphorical toasts, ten talks deep into theoretical tech expansion that has no reason to exist beyond an excuse for them to speak ... whatever. he chooses not to overthink it when he's already a wealth of anxieties trapped in his thoughts. leaning back in his chair with his legs crossing almost makes him look at ease. he really isn't, of course. he never is, no matter how much this may count as ' free time ' by technicality.

"having the world on your shoulders has a negative connotation. you do realize daily struggle isn't something to celebrate? it would be more uplifting to say, ' the world in our hands ' ... though i guess you aren't wrong. the former is true enough left as it is." he takes the coffee only because it's offered, lifting it in listless acknowledgement before drinking it ; his gaze flits to the side as he does, choosing to stay seated. it's less a snub so much as this is ... how he is. cynical, right to his beating heart. it hadn't been a lie, that he doesn't really do friendliness, or merriment as it were. there's a reason none of his other employees are ever around when jack comes to visit, so he assumes. "business is ... tiring," he comments as he sets the mug back down. in spite of his long sigh, he waves his hand in acknowledge, " — you're lacking in your subtlety escaping it."

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ○○○○○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

all things considered, he's been adjusting quite well to their relationship being something of a public spectacle—he supposes there's no world where it wouldn't be, when the heir in question had hardly been spotted outside of his glass tower for anything that wasn't well-prepared for in advance. not that there was anything wrong with keeping a rather private life ; to a degree, he does still prefer it, but this is nice too. moments wherein all the fanfare stops, and it's just the two of them and the occasional passerby who couldn't care less for either one of them—maybe that's why he's in such good spirits. or at least a part of it. chai might have even snapped a photo or two with him actually smiling for once in his life. he's sure he'll hear all about the flood of idle commentary when they're home, but kale's focus for the moment is comfortably settled in the present. watching him from the sidelines, first, and meeting him with arms outstretched to wrap tight around chai's waist to catch him ; meeting him halfway to kiss is easy, if not second nature, now.

he'd be happy spending the next half of their date just like this, tangled up in one another. feeling the way chai's fingers make a habit of pushing into his hair the more force he takes tugging him forward makes for an easy comfort ; the slightest bit of coaxing to encourage him kiss him again and again ... he's not stupid, though. he knows what he's up to the second he feels him pull 'way first—his nose crinkling. the same grin he's left with is the same he felt starting to form 'gainst the last kiss they kept. still, it's new that he isn't scowling—kale's exasperation is a lighter one, matching the softer curl to his lips.

" uh-huh. " even rolling his eyes these days doesn't come as standoffish as it used to. he doesn't drag it out, just follows after him—he has to keep his steps a bit shorter to keep in pace, but it's honestly whatever. his grip is still relatively loose 'round his hand as he lets him drag him along, and though chai's attention flits elsewhere ; higher, to the shadows shifting overhead, kale's attention doesn't leave him for even a second. " they probably see hundreds of couples every day, " he's not trying to be subtle either when he tugs his arm back, lacing their fingers together a bit tighter as he bows forward just quickly enough to press another kiss to the side of his cheek, " perhaps not men playing quite so coy. " let him have this one.

he's not really all that bothered when it comes to matters of pda ... if anyone had a problem with his day - to - day relationships, they could take it up with the fish ( ha - ha ... ) ; he's purely doing this just to be annoying, and for literally no other reason. it's less that he's rejecting the offer and more like chai's denying kale the satisfaction of having him pull him around to hug and kiss or whatever all the time. hey, sometimes a guy wants to be pursued! too bad his mischief is always something easy to spot ... from, like, miles away.

doesn't mean he isn't absolutely thriving when he's got this man trailing right after him for the attention, though! he could poke fun at his being coy all he wanted, but clearly it's working for him when he gets basically everything he wants. that's kale.

" — me? playing coy? i salmon-ly swear, i would never. you're imagining things." the curl to his lips suddenly looks a lot more innocent when he makes an effort to lean into that whole doe - eyed thing he has going on. he's rarely so wilted, at least not outside of more private, vulnerable spaces. the affection he looks up towards kale with is genuine, though, following the press of his lips 'gainst his cheek. he can get embarrassed, sometimes. just a little, if the faint heat rising up his neck is anything to go by. who knows why! the only things that can see them are the fish. "feel like it's mostly parents getting dragged here for their kids' enrichment or teen couples. this is, like, the most stereotypical date spot ever ... uh, i think?"

he wouldn't know any better than kale ... but it's certainly been a cute, scenic kind of walk thus far! his plan had been to experience all those so - called stereotypes insofar as dating, and this is definitely more fun than dissociating in the reptile section at the zoo because of the summer sun ... he's still not going to give in and give him that kiss, though!

"i want to go to the jellyfish room. they glow! in! the! dark! do you think that's the last thing billionaires see when they implode in the ocean? no, don't answer that. i don't want to awaken your rich one - percent yearning for the waves." his mouth runs faster than his mind ; he's already distracted by a clownfish floating by inside the enclosure as he speaks.

he knows why he's asking. even if he won't say it outright, he likes to think he at least has a pretty good idea—how scarcely they've gotten to actually relax in moments of total privacy like this. as themselves, not two men literally masquerading having to pretend like they both aren't hiding one of the planet's biggest secrets 'neath just a little bit of silicone. the relief of the mask's weight off his face is hardly understated, however much of a comfort it'd made once upon a time ; there comes a distinct difference between what'd once been mental peace now being a vital part of his physical safety when his most defining feature now lies beneath it. what few breaks they'd had along their great escape hadn't exactly given either one of them ample time to really laze around like this, not in any way that offered either one of them any real sense of reprieve. the power of timothy's unbelievably lengthy list of friends, he guesses. at least it's been a long while since he was introduced without first having a gun pressed to his head.

this is bandit behavior : timothy the grandest of them all, harboring a criminal ... or, well, a dead man's less illegal, but it's the pretense of it all, skills honed after years of wild feats that jack had only once ever played a part in. this makes twice now where one vault hunter in particular earned his praise ; the first where it's especially come to his benefit—contrary to popular belief, jack knows when it's best to hold his tongue. it's why he keeps his mouth shut save the slight upquirk to his lips, feeling his coarse palms take his face gently between them as his thumbs brush 'gainst the sharp line of his cheeks.

it isn't the first time he's ever seen him like this. the faint glow of eridium imprinted onto his skin, never quite fully able to heal—his scar's always looked as nearly fresh as the day he'd gotten it, and that's the real risk he runs being seen like this : the clearest distinction that marks him, that no double could ever match despite his better efforts. looking up at him, by contrast, timothy's scar has healed considerably, a faint pink compared to the bluish-glow of his own ; some of his freckles had even started to darken again, around the arch of it. cute.

" —- uh huh, " he hums, lolling his head aside to rest a little more firmly 'gainst one of his hands as he watches him back ; all the good it does, he can't really make any clear distinction where it is his gaze flits to as it draws 'cross his face over and over again. it never looks as if he lingers long in any one place ... which while maybe not explicitly romantic, does make it a bit sweeter to ponder—it's like he's memorizing his face all over again. his real face : not the mask, not what became handsome jack. just ... him. he's not feeling especially keen on disturbing his focus, and to his credit, he likes to think he does a pretty damn good job of holding it ; that hardly means he doesn't feel restless though. he is, at least enough to sate himself by shifting a leg out from underneath him to hook 'round the back of timothy's knee instead, while his arm reaches up to wrap loosely around his shoulders to tug him closer. that's more like it. " any longer and you're gonna end up staring a hole right between my eyes there, sweetheart. what's got you so fixated this time around? "

this is a ... very rare intimacy, if not in part for their lack of time spent truly alone with one - another when timothy has a shocking brigand of friendships knocking for his attention now that he's plenty time to spare, then definitely just because jack has never made a great habit of slipping his mask off. more literal now, than back when ' handsome jack ' had been his default persona for most of their day, never mind the actual mask he'd wear to protect the ego of his image. there've still been scenes a little bit like this one through their more recent histories shared, though — he's been afforded more leniency than most 'pon the realization of a relationship much sweeter between the two of them than the nightmare that had lingered before it. he almost thinks all his suffering was worth it to see him look up at him like this while he's straddling jack's lap. almost. almost.

"i'm serious. never realized how much i've kinda missed your face until i'm not able to see it every night," he murmurs, voice just above that of a whisper ; it's kinda sweet, in his way, how mesmerized he still gets by the little things in spite of all the time they've spent together. maybe he just lives life in the honeymoon phase, or maybe all those bitter old assholes who'd even made it into someone's heart back in the spaces he'd grown up had just hated their partners, or spouses. he's never gone a day without looking at the person he loves like they're all those stars he'd used to watch burning bright outside spaceport windows.

funny how it's his hands that feel a bit rougher 'gainst jack's skin ... they've both seen their fair share of hardship, his definitely of the more physical variety than the other man's various tragedies. not that his emotional state is much grander ... but even he can see the irony in it, that the meeker of they two should end up the one with the hands of a bandit, stained and calloused alike. how lucky he is to have survived long enough to share moments like this — where his thumb can trace softly 'long the line of jack's jaw. for all they'd tried to turn them into mirrors, no fine cut could ever take away timothy's softer edgers, nor jack's sharp gaze. he only wilts under it tenderly, these days.

"ah, sorry." it isn't 'til jack winds himself around him in the ways he can reach that he's pulled from his reverie, eyes widening with recognition, and then embarrassment, even as he's pulled down and closer against the other man's chest. he's a stubborn thing, though. refuses to give up his balance entirely, so he settles for letting his hands fall to wrap around jack's shoulders instead. timothy watches him with a curiosity he doesn't voice, though his lips part like he may ...

in the end, he ducks his head down to wrap his arms tighter 'round him, burying his face 'gainst the space of his neck. "i was just thinking — " his weight falls a little from how he's holding him, though, leaving him slouched from the embrace. "you've changed a lot since the two of us met." he's not speaking in melancholy, though he wouldn't blame him for being wary considering how difficult it can be to peg him for his emotions anyways. " ... but not that much. you feel so familiar to me these days."

the heights his desperation reach are a little more humiliating than he's willing to admit ... though he isn't exactly surprised by it either. this was a long time coming, consequence only of his own design ; chai had made for a breathtaking focus for his fantasies long before they were ever together—if he's being really, fully honest with himself, he's not entirely unconvinced chai hadn't guessed as much in the length of time it'd taken for him to find the balls to actually confess his feelings to him properly. kind of pathetic on his part that he'd found more comfort in the moment shoving his tongue practically down his throat in the cramped space of a festival photobooth and every instance in between with every up-down he definitely caught than he did trying to find the right string of words in hopes that they might be pretty enough to take his confession seriously ... his anxiety feels like a ghost long past now. in part, sure, from the pleasant buzz that's settled through his body and aided plenty with his confidence, but mostly for how eagerly chai takes to him too.

he's never been all that particular when it comes to who takes the lead in situations like this. he likes the ebb and flow insofar as power 'tween them goes ; more than happy to relent to a harsher touch with just as much pleasure as he finds in feeling chai's body jerk beneath his. there's no chance for reprieve, so much as the heat between them comes as a constant build—even the clumsiness of each kiss feels purposeful, every one missed assuredly followed by the next one harder with each other's gasp, moan, or cry effectively muted 'neath each drag of their tongues. what does surprise him is just how much force chai takes : his strength has always come as a shock, but it feels unbelievably good being subject to it—his prosthetic curling its fingers hard into his hair would is enough to make him shiver with the force of it. everything else is just a plus.

there's shockingly little shame in undressing each other, if any at all. robert will always bite his tongue when it comes to the less intimate fantasies—though even calling the spirals his thoughts would follow as much feels much too generous for what they were, voyeuristic even at their most polite. there's no courteous way to talk about wandering thoughts in shared employee showers after a long shift ; how waiting for his turn was less out of chivalry and more for how he could feel his gaze drifting 'long the other man's body as he spoke, completely losing track before a conversation even began. too, how even the occasional flash of skin drove him mad—he'd never once recovered from chai's more provocative choice in fashion, the fishnets and cut shirts. it felt purposeful whenever he'd asked after robert's thoughts, and he's still not entirely convinced he didn't ever ask on purpose just to watch how quickly his face would fall flush.

apart from the obvious : the swift, sharp speed he takes in each buck of his ships in desperate want for whatever friction he could find—he's all too eager when it comes to where his hands find purchase. he'd hardly needed coaxing at all to slip his hands 'neath his layers, to feel the heat of chai's skin or brush his fingertips past the hard length of his cock and how it strains 'gainst its temporary constraints, but he won't lie and say that the encouragement isn't still one of the hottest experiences of his life. his hands chase after every inch of exposed skin he's able to pry free to the best he's able ; he's not so deft one-handed, but the effort is still worth commending despite how much his hand slips 'gainst his sweat-slick skin before it ever firmly takes hold on him. it takes much less work to wriggle free of jeans and boxers alike when he's already writhing plenty—he's been persistent throughout with each short thrust of his hips against chai's own, grinding down harder the more openly they both were exposed. he feels so dizzy, the greater the heat 'tween them builds ; drunk off lust more than he is anything he'd actually consumed in the hours past.

his arousal has never felt this intense. they can't get any closer than this ; not really, not when they're pressed this close. robert can feel every harsh thump of chai's heart racing as it pounds 'gainst both their chests, and all that adds to how he fights to keep hold of his back and hip alike makes for such an incredible wave of pleasure that washes over him, making his body jerk, shiver and shake subject to the overwhelm. chai is clinging to him so tightly, grinding up into each buck of his hips, and robert's sure that there can't be anything that feels better than this—so he assumes, that is until ...

" oh —- fuck! " he's making a habit of this! but god, he really can't complain when he gets handsy like this ... the movement makes his hips stall, but the loss of friction is made almost worth it by how harshly chai's teeth press into his neck—he definitely doesn't want to think about whatever sound that must've drawn out, when all he personally catches is the echo of a particularly strangled groan he fails to swallow back, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head in the same motion he tugs his lip 'neath his teeth 'til he tastes blood when chai's lips wrap around fresh wound. why was he so hesitant again, exactly? because he was anxious? christ. he's never been more into anyone—not entirely sure if his dick's ever been harder either, for that matter.

" give me a break, " speaking of things he should've seen coming ... he doesn't have it in him to chastise him when he feels this foggy, nor when his voice falters each time he tries to take hold of it—more often than not, just like now, anything he wants to say devolves quickly into low, drawn-out groan when his focus doesn't fall fully back to the feeling of their feverish skin and less than subtle friction of their cocks pressed together. the sight alone might kill him : how much precum then is smeared between them, what all that doesn't end up in a small pool 'gainst the other man's stomach, anyway. his breathing's gotten more labored just from watching him—he's only just taken to picking back up where he left off with short, more pointed thrust when he catches the movement of chai's hand as it dips between them, and no amount of foresight could prepare him for the way his own body falls tense feeling how delicately chai's fingers wrap around them both. the pressure had already been so much—but this is where he catches the first hint of his embarrassment 'neath the strength of his need. thrusting into his hand feels amazing—he's humiliated by how he feels his dick throb against his palm. not enough to make him stop, though. if anything, he picks up the pace.

he'd be more than happy to keep like this ; to fuck the warmth of his palm 'til that ecstasy broke, maybe have the chance to return the favor ... something to that effect. it's not hard even here for fantasies to run free, watching each steady, practiced stroke of his hand as he gradually picks up pace pumping both their dicks ; he can imagine him tucked away in the comfort of his own bed, curled against the sheets with his hips instinctually thrusting into his palm instead of the keeping with the comfortable tension he has now, leading him to handle the rest ... the image isn't shattered when he lets them both go, but robert's quick huff is plenty show for his immediate protest, that is, until his breath is promptly stolen twice-over. sour as his expression pulled, his scowl slips quickly back to earnest, wide-eyed curiosity near the second chai has him fall against his back. were it his curiosity were anything as innocent as his puppy-eyes make him look ; the second chai has a leg swung over 'cross his lap, arms outstretched, he's completely captured by him.

this might be the most pathetic he's ever looked, watching him with an unfamiliar hunger as he slowly settles himself over him—he didn't even know he was capable of something like this, how drawn-out the arch of his back feels before he shifts to roll his hips against his own. there's no hope of reprieve either, not that he would ask for it ; his lips stay parted even when words fail, the most of his strength coming in how his breath shudders 'neath chai's softer kisses as he starts along his trail, but it's his hands that feel electric. it's instinct alone that even beneath him, robert's body arches into his touch as his hand drags down the length of his chest, his stomach—chai's hand hasn't even curled back around his cock yet, and he can tell just from how it aches that he's painfully hard. the anticipation somehow makes this all so much more enticing.

that is to say, he's not unconvinced he wouldn't have actually cried had chai's hand not eventually wrapped around him ; he'd take anything he was willing to give, and he does—swallowing hard in pitiful attempt to hold back his sounds even when it's just his fingers wrapping 'round his head. his body feels like it's on fire.

" please. " no, this is the most pathetic he's ever been. his voice is pretty at least with the husky, incidentally sultry tone it takes on for the little effort it takes to plead, but he's not exactly in any position to care much for his composure ; and clearly, not for how he's perceived either for that matter. his head lolls 'gainst his shoulder where he lacks the strength to hold it upright, eyes heavy and half-lidded where his focus flits unevenly between the especially erotic curl to chai's lip and the strokes of his hand wrapped around him. the slow pace feels like torture, but when he finally takes to pumping his hand a little faster, it's like his mind goes blank, head falling back with a deep groan as his own hands reach to wrap around him tighter—they'd settled around his hips to help him settle 'cross his lap, and what a benefit that makes when he can yank him even closer and let his thin nails press indents into his skin. " hha— h - holy— fuck, chai— " it feels better than he anticipated, relenting essentially all his control like this ; he thinks it's chai's expression that affects him the most though, however little he's able to actually catch a glimpse of. cute enough to play coy, but coy enough to forgo any suggestion he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to him. " i wis— wish you just a - aah— asked. like that... " he just barely finds the strength to drag one hand slowly up 'long the pretty arch of his back ; purposefully trailing his fingertips up along his spine until he can curl them loosely in the mess of his hair to keep him held close. he's not convinced that'll last, the way his own body is left trembling. " i totally would have— mm— god, i want to... "

he actually thinks robert might've had it worse off than him this entire time despite him being the sole reason they'd never pushed their relationship forward during all the time he'd spent pining — either romantically or sexually. yeah, sure, he might've gotten his heart briefly ripped in two and a few weeks of humiliation from it all ... but for as pent up as he'd been here and there, he's never really had trouble staving off those urges by distracting himself. there's always so much to do in the day - to - day! he doesn't have much time for daydreaming now that he's not in college ... but there's something extremely satisfying in having visual proof that even though he'd held himself together well, robert sure as fuck hadn't. oh, he won't tease him aloud too much for it lest he actually embarrass him — but there's no denying a certain amount of self - satisfaction in the way he looks at him notably being pathetic as hell under the, like, smallest amount of stimulation. he may be jerking him off, but it's not as if he's doing much else. seems like mecha man had been holding onto fantasies like this with a death grip ... kinda like the one he has on his hips right now. his nails feel good digging into him.

"oooh, he begs, too! that's hot." never let it be said he's a cruel lover. the more desperate robert seems for this kind of attention, the more chai relents it. his movements settle into steady, quickening strokes as he pumps his hand along the full length of his erection, taking time to drag his thumb along the tip of it each time he's able. he's spreading his precum over the shaft 'til he's satisfied with the results of it — and although it's doomed to be a short endeavor, he does eventually splay his fingers to wrap around both of their cocks again. the shiver that runs up his spine is indicative of how good is feels, leaving him almost wilting overtop him at the feeling of the both of them hard in his hand ; but also the pressure of subtly thrusting their cocks against one - another.

geez. this is ... so egregious. not exactly the calmest walk home from the bar, but he supposes this had been building up for, well, a long time now ... neither of them even seem particularly surprised by the sudden, intense need to fuck creeping up on them. he's sure there's romance to be had in this somewhere under the surface, but mostly he just wants to get dicked down by mecha man right now. that said, he's drawing this out on purpose despite asking ahead of time about his intentions, clearly.

"seeee, you can be a good boy when you want to be! keep holding my hips like that." how he rolls them gets a bit stronger, grinding his cock down on robert's with increasingly pointed pressure. he one hundred percent thinks they could both cum like this, and it's not like he's really against the idea of it ... but he'd be lying if he tried to say he wasn't just trying to be a bit of an asshole. or a brat, if they really wanted to put it that way. at a certain point, flicking his wrist to pump their dicks together kinda just becomes second nature, 'til he's bowed against robert's body to keep himself steady. just as well ... he takes to biting along his neck again, following the pretty line of the slope down to his shoulder.

he has to muffle a bit of a laugh against his skin, though, eyes sparkling with that same mischief, "sorry, sorry. next time i'll just ask if you want to step away to fuck my face while we're at work, is that better?" his sarcasm is a light - hearted one, but his grin turns a little more sheepish hiding in the crook of his neck. "i wouldn't be opposed to a redo ... there's a lot of festivals in the spring. lots of loud ones ... that can block out the sound of someone being sucked off in a photobooth ... or, you know. being ridden, if you're adventurous. whaaaaatever." there's little room left to wonder if he's serious. he definitely is. very, very cheeky of him ... but he thinks he can feel his cock aching just thinking about it. he's a degenerate, a fuckboy even — what can he say.

the silence that falls over them afterwards, though, is a heavy one. the atmosphere's thick with their shared lust ; all he can focus on is the slick feeling of their cocks rubbing together, how hot both of them feel to the touch the more sweat beads on their skin, and his own panting as it turns to hushed, broken moans against his shoulder. his head feels fuzzy, the tension pooling in the pit of his stomach and tightening in his abdomen starting to painfully build. his movements become more erratic as it does, breath higher - pitched and desperate. he thinks the hottest thing in the moment is just hearing another man moan like robert does — he'd always known he was attracted to men exclusively, but hearing him sound like that drives home why. it's basically torture knowing that he's just edging the both of them. he waits until he's practically whimpering, right on the cusp of shooting his load across robert's stomach — and the second before he hits that peak is when he stops.

with one more hard thrust, he slips his hips back, having to fight against robert's hold on him to put distance 'tween the two of them. it's an egregious sight with strings of precum pulling and breaking from the tips of both their cocks ... but chai doubles down on it, holding robert's dick with a rough press of his thumb over the slit again. it's his way of signaling he's not going to let him cum yet, and to be honest, he feels like that's easier said than done. he feels like if he strokes him even one more time right now, they're really pushing it. robert's cock is insanely hard, twitching. that's exactly what he'd wanted.

"do you feel good?" it might actually just be outright mean of him to ask, but in spite of his own frustration at having stopped right before cumming, he holds himself together shockingly well as he starts to shift his hips lower, leaning down to press hard kisses along the path he travels as he moves lower along robert's body. he bites here and there, too, lets his hands fall aside to grope at and travel down his sides. he can feel robert's cock against his stomach, first, then his ribs, and brushing over a perked nipple the farther he makes it. it doesn't take long to reach his abdomen with his mouth ; this is where he draws out his tongue, following the pretty line of his inner - thigh. "i kinda wanna see how many times i can get away with stopping you short until you can't take it anymore. sorry in advance." he lifts his head with an apologetic wrinkle to his nose. he's not sorry at all. " — but also, you totally deserve it."

chuffing, bows down to parts his lips above his cock ... his tongue lolls out to let his spit trail down first, though. he lets a good amount fall before using his palm to stroke down his length. the cold metal of his prosthetic is what he cups his balls with, though, notably gentler in his handling to account for the strength. he almost mourns he doesn't have sensation there, but, well, he makes do. his mouth is next, wrapping around the head of his cock to curl his tongue 'round the sensitive underside and suck. he's plenty flushed now, his blush having deepened considerably. this is insanely humiliating. it's also, like, insanely sexy. the only thing deeper than his moan as he pushes his head down are the growing strength of the reverberations across his body as his core starts picking up pace.

in theory, he should've known what he signed himself up for when he willfully stepped away from the objective comforts hyperion brought in it's cold, makeshift sanctuary some hundreds 'pon thousands of miles out in open space—the worlds far beyond it weren't exactly known for being ... well, kind. or often habitable, and that's putting it lightly. still, he finds he'd be hard-pressed to ever say that he regrets his decision ; there's just some days he might wish that they were a little bit easier, when the adrenaline wears off and the promise of new and exciting adventures rapidly starts losing it's appeal. —that's not why he's here now, even if it had been in part some of the incentive at the start ... he just wants to actually feel like he's helping people, for once.

the helping part : that's where things get more complicated. someone like eve is by all accounts far beyond what he's used to. the things she's capable of, sure, but too what all she's made of—nothing like her existed back when he was stationed up on helios, and in xion, he's just gotten real used to making the most out of scraps.

" don't worry about it. we're both here to help each other out, the least i can do is return the favor, " keeping his voice steady and lax is only so easy a task when his attention is pulled elsewhere. notably, not at the massive wound that leaves blood streaking down eve's back—but he's still incredibly anxious. every movement elsewise he makes seems rushed, down to how he's left shuffling through tools and storage alike in hopes there might still be something left behind he can make use of. exospine materials were already so scarce ; now he's kind of wishing he'd hoarded more. what little he pulls into his arms doesn't feel like enough, but it's gonna have to do. " ... where, uh, where i can, anyway. "

the furrow of his brow only lasts so long as his head is bowed, the second he looks up is quick to wipe all hints of displeasure from his face, but he's not exactly convinced that embarrassment makes for a much better look. just ... don't stare! pretty android woman in dire need of help—that ... that he's capable of. " you got it. " at least having an armful of usable material makes it so he can't make himself look anymore stupid, he doesn't really want to have to explain the concept of fingerguns right now. that all being said ... he wastes no time in tearing his gaze away again, or at least covering his face in the short reprieve he gets pushing his glasses frames further up the bridge of his nose as he quickly moves to step behind her, " —so! this might take a while. now's as good a time as any to try and rest up a bit. looked like things got pretty crazy out there. "

he is not built for the same manner of work that she is when it comes to exploration beyond city lines. even she can tell he's nervous, though EVE cannot possibly imagine why he's so skittish around her. perhaps for what she is? stepping into this city had turned out a different manner of hostile tension — not one of violence, but disapproval. his demeanor would get him killed in the heat of battle were he to hesitate even a second afront even the most harmless naytiba ... yet, looking at the tools he cradles in his arms as she peels the layer of her planet diving suit off to reveal the detailing of her skin suit underneath, she realizes she has not a clue what most of the things he works with are ... save the spare parts afforded for her spine, of course. this is where his expertise lies — technology, over combat.

"return the favor? so, an equal exchange ... " fascinating. she relents a certain amount of trust in him as she curls over herself, her ponytail falling forward 'pon her shoulder. it's long enough that it bundles up 'pon the ground, but that gets it out of his way so that he may assess the damage. "i won't rest longer than necessary. many of xion's people asked me for ... more favors as i was wandering around, despite their wariness of me." she seems as if she's trying to speak casually. no matter how jumpy he seems, she needs his help. perhaps her confidence will rub off upon him?

"vaughn. your reception of me is much different than other humans in xion. why was it that you saved me? why help me?" she supposes the answer is obvious enough in theory ; he seems genuine in his desire to aid the people of earth, but so too did some of the city's sentinels, and it seems they're quite cross with her. the average citizen has been ... unnerved by her presence. upset, even. "they refer to me as angel. i don't mind, of course, but you called my name."

generally, she means, as they've spent time together ... albeit, mostly through the lens of the droid currently left in lily's care. the distrust of mother sphere on earth is an uncomfortable truth she's begun to uncover ... perhaps it's because he's from off - world as well?