scorching

A light hearted laugher escaped Eastwood when he heard the question of wanting Helios to call him sir – sure he enjoyed a sort of daddy kink, but that was for him to know alone.

“If you call me sir, I’ll make sure to call you son. Just like Commander Bering calls all the Fighters.” He teased back and opened his locker one more time, grabbed a towel and threw it over his left shoulder.

Eastwood hid his scars under his uniform, and had quite the number of them. From burned skin on his left arm, to the three that went from his left shoulder, crossed his chest and went all the way down to only two an inch over his belly buttom. The one on his face was only a small display of the others. And yet, he showed no shame of having any of them and didn’t care for others to see the marks when he was shirtless.

Stepping closer to Helios, the Elite Fighter passed by him and playfully groped his ass with one hand. “I won’t carry you, lover boy.” His voice was hoarse when he whispered such words, that was his cue for Helios to decide whether to follow him or lose the chance.

               “I think that would kill the mood,” he replied, grinning despite the dark flush on his cheeks. He may have been teasing Eastwood, but he likely would’ve had no qualms calling him sir. Helios’ started to peel off his shirt and ditched it on the bench, leaving him in his tight pants. Despite his rough-and-tumble childhood and being a Fighter for the last three years, Helios had little scarring on his body beyond a few pale knife scars here and there from alpha-dog fights.

              He liked what he saw of Eastwood. He also suspected that if things got more handsy than just a make out, there would be no expectations from the other to maintain some sort of relationship beyond their established companionship. Helios wasn’t looking for that. He just wanted to blow off some steam for now - the future was open possibilities.

              There was a small, unintentional jump from the younger male as his ass was grabbed. Oh. He wet his lips before turning, pale eyes darkening with lust. “I’m sure you’d be strong enough to manhandle me.” His heart was beating rapidly from a mix of anticipation and nerves. Helios definitely wasn’t going to be able to limit their interaction to just kissing.

               Helios had been leaning against a locker as he considered the other Fighter. He had absolutely no intention of saying what he did, and yet... While his cheeks burned at the bold question, he didn’t retract it. The worst that could happen was Eastwood would turn him down. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that Helios was gay.

              A grin spread across his lips at the casual response. He was hardly abashed at being looked over either - not when their first meeting he’d been caught checking the Elite out in the first place. Helios might be younger, but he wasn’t overly afraid to go for what he wanted.

A decent conversation is the last thing Porthos expects, but there they are, utilizing brain power responsible for more than just grunts over some weights. The Alliance does its best at keeping things professional so that men are no more than parts to some machine. Helios comes across rather soft for someone they said would bark. “Don’t tell me that. I’ll have to test you by asking you to do some of my assignments.” A friendly chuckle is given and then Porthos rubs the back of his neck. “Actually nevermind. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Helios said that fighters didn’t have much and that’s when Porthos remembered the gap between them. “Didn’t mean to. Selene just seems like the kind of guy that’s hard to get close to.” With a shrug, he drops the subject. They are in the gym and he is ready to forget any discomfort from their conversation. 

“I go at a different time usually.” He watches as Helios throws his jacket off and he carefully places his own down near it. His workout buddy definitely has a fighter’s physique, but he isn’t there to be distracted by trivial things. “We should stretch a little first. The walk here helped with that.” 

Phobos just needs to get over whatever is stopping him from talking to Selene. Porthos doesn’t notice any romantic intent with Helios, at least not yet, but he did bring up inappropriate relationships for a reason. Maneuvering around small talk is still part of the plan even if the fighter is quick enough to catch on. “So Helios? Do you have a type?” The question is left in the air as he stretches and arm to the ceiling. “I mean girls. You must be popular with the ladies.” Hopefully he doesn’t sound like some annoying parental figure. 

                He liked to make friends wherever he went. He wasn’t particularly loud or funny, but he tended to think of himself as friendly. Within the first week on board he’d made friends with some of the women in the engineering bay out of pure chance. They let him hide with them when he was having bad bouts of insomnia and didn’t chase him to medical. Though it seemed it was a bit harder to make friends among anyone outside of support crew.

                Humans were pack animals. He’d learned that growing up in the colony, even the dirtiest, poorest kid usually found packmates to run with so they wouldn’t starve to death. For now, Selene and a few of the crew were his. He was quickly warming up to Porthos, but he was still cautious, unsure if there was some sort of ulterior motive behind his friendliness.

                “Sounds good.” His bare arms - very few of his shirts actually had sleeves, he hated them - stretched to the ceiling, palms upwards. Slowly he released the stretch to bend an arm behind his head, pulling at his elbow with the opposite hand.

                His heart near about stopped for a moment hearing one of his few dreaded questions. Guys liked locker room talk and he generally teased or stayed quiet so it didn’t get awkward for them. It was hard to dance around it, and a lie would only fuck him over later. He chuckled; forced, quiet, dry. “Oh, yeah, definitely popular. Especially when they find out women aren’t my type.” It was what it was - he was mostly out anyway and if Porthos took that information to hurt his reputation, he could always get a transfer.

nsfw things | @stellarcomedy

               He was - was ambushed a good term? - on his way out of the shower. He couldn’t sleep again so he’d trained then showered before he was going to get dressed and head back to his bunk. Only, he was somehow seated on a bench with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

              One large bruise was clearly visible on his ribs from where he’d taken a kick and various faded, silver scars from training. None of which made him self conscious in the slightest - that was a Fighter’s life.

              Eastwood’s hands were busy massaging in long strokes and Helios was quickly becoming an incoherent mess at how good it felt. “Mmmhm.” What were words? He bit down on his lips to stop the moan that threatened to escape. Okay, maybe it wasn’t JUST the massage. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched in a way that wasn’t for a fight.

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S FATAL FLAW?

Fatal flaw: You’re an idealist in a cruel, callous world. You want the world to be good. 

Here’s the problem: it’s usually not. At best it’s subpar. At worst it’s a nightmare void, and your naiveté is simply a plot device used to emphasize this point. Your inability to accept the world’s present darkness will lead to your untimely downfall, but not before your dewy-eyed idealism and rosy visions of utopia erode away. You will become a shell of your former self. Sorry about that. Yikes

TAGGED: @devilglow

   “Did you get into a scuffle with a normal….?” it was no wonder the majority that lived within the city hated humans, to be mistreated and tossed aside so carelessly it made her sigh. She knew the cruelty that was possible the way this place had a tendency to grasp on never letting go of the tenants. A frown graced her soft features as she sighed, it prompted her memory to be tugged upon thinking the one she was close to && how it infuriated her to hear people speak so ill towards him or worse, treat Nicolas like a plague. 

 They look so similar, same flesh, bones, everything yet – hagures && twilights were viewed nothing more as an instrument. Her eyes lit up at the recognition of the Doctor’s name as she grinned, “I go to him too, he’s great – a little scary sometimes” she laughed, remembering the countless times she recalled that scowl upon Theo’s face. “As long as it isn’t broken that’s all that matters” 

  Fishing into her pocket once more, she held a finger up as if pausing time before removing a crude put together business card. Her cheeks became visibly red at how childish it must have looked, “I don’t live too far from here, but, um, here! If you ever need assistance please call this number. I’m sure my employers will be happy to help you out too”

               “I didn’t mean to,” he retorted, voice becoming defensive. She reminded him a bit of his sister, it was hard not to go into  younger sibling mode. He shifted, uncomfortable, but couldn’t help spilling the events. This total stranger who was kind enough to stop to make sure he was okay got a grumbled earful. “We were kissing and he didn’t like his friends catching him. So he hit me.”

              His face grew hot, but he attempted a wry smile. There was no way that he’d ever piss off the doctor. Not just because he supplied meds for cheap, but because he was pretty scary on his own. And there was no way Afon could ever do anything to put Nina in danger - she was the best nurse he’d ever visited.