also did we just..... drop kerri, as a concept? were we really supposed to believe that cassian would stop looking just because maarva said so? especially once he was traveling the whole galaxy with access to a vast intelligence network? did she really exist only to motivate the morlana plot and cassian's angst?
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I was thinking "hey, what could I get Cor for his special day?"
and someone said "a birthday cake."
And I was like "what were you saying? A PWP fic about two traumatised PTSD-stricken clones having sex?"
"No, that's absolutely not what I—"
"On its way!"
Mal belongs to @riinoaheartilly
—------------------------------
The best thing about life as a deserter might be the afternoon naps. To be able to sleep when you're tired, to not have to torture yourself beyond your breaking point every day in cold mud holes and trenches, where you’re always in danger of not waking up if you allow yourself the weakness of sleep; that's a luxury he would hate to give up again.
No, wait. He needs to correct himself. The very best thing just walked through the door and is now headed for him. Warm autumn light shines through the small window, giving Ami's skin a golden glow. Mal smiles through heavy eyelids, the remnants of sleep still crumbly in the corners of his eyes.
“Good timing,” he says and extends a hand in invitation, “just woke up.”
Ami is wearing nothing but a thigh-length linen tunic that is way too big for him and Mal wonders where he got it, until he sees the telltale misweave near the hem and recognizes it as his own. Either way, it suits him.
The young man's movement pattern is tense though, he takes small tight steps, his face is unusually red.
"What have you been up to now again?" Mal asks with a snort.
Ami wordlessly climbs onto the bed with him and is met by strong arms that wrap him in a loving embrace. The slender body naturally nestles against Mal's flank and Mal dips his head to place a welcoming kiss on Ami's temple.
“Don’t wanna talk?” Mal tries and Ami shakes his head where it rests on Mal’s shoulder.
A beat. Then: “You are not allowed to talk either, okay?” Ami says it so softly, Mal needs a moment to process what he was just instructed to do.
“Okay.”
“You can say ‘stop’ anytime. But nothing else, yes?”
“Yes, Sir,” Mal quips, curious now.
For a moment nothing happens, as if Ami needs time to collect himself. Then a hand comes to rest on Mal’s crotch and the trooper skips a breath. There's not much hesitation after that. It's happening so fast, Mal can hardly adjust his thoughts to the situation. Expertly, Ami works him to excitement with nothing but a firm palm over coarse fabric, and shortly after, Mal is squirming so eagerly that Ami cranes to meet him for open-mouth kisses, giving him a counter-sensation to concentrate on.
"Ami, y—" Mal pants but he is cut off with a noise of disagreement, shushing him. He follows the directive again, closing his mouth ostentatiously and instantly gets rewarded.
A whole new sensation rocks through him as Ami's licked hand slips under his pants. He is warm, but on Mal's searing hot skin the touch seems almost cool around his shaft, gentle fingers curling, releasing, lazily stroking him.
Hardly anything is left of Ami's initial shyness. He works Mal routinely and willingly in slow strokes down, and sloppy but heartfelt kisses up; and Mal has no idea what he has done to deserve this benefaction but he gladly accepts it.
His body doesn’t even try to hide how much he enjoys it, sedulously growing under Ami's doing. Every stroke pushes him further to full size and when Mal doubts it can get any better, his lover dives down to pull Mal's pants to his knees and closes spit-soaked lips around him. Well, he literally stands corrected, because he quickly learns that up to this point he wasn't yet as hard as he could get. He files it as a pleasant lesson.
By now he's reduced to whimpers, biting back 'yes please's he's not allowed to vocalize, and all he can do is focus on not jerking into Ami's mouth like a proper bastard, despite how much his hips tremble with the need to. Clinging to his composure keeps getting more difficult the longer Ami teases him. He can't remember the last time he was this turned on, or this hard.
He could come like this, wants to come like this, wants to see Ami gulp him down, all soft lips and tongue and red cheeks. The muscles in his thighs tense – and suddenly, Ami releases him from his hot mouth. He nearly complains at the abrupt loss of pleasure, but in the end, all he does is throw his head back on the pillow with a pitiful sigh.
Ami looks up with big eyes full of tentativeness and Mal can’t help but smile at the adorable sight. With a gentle tug on his shoulders he gestures him to come up and Ami follows his request, crawling on top of him to snuggle against his chest.
“That was nice,” Mal rasps, heart still pounding from the excitement.
Because it really was nice. Completely different from sex with Bruiser, with whom his main concern used to be how to get him to finally shut his fucking face and cum as quickly as possible. This isn’t a hate fuck.
Ami makes a disagreeing noise in response to the words, placing his index finger on Mal’s lips. Mal’s eyebrows shoot up. We’re not done yet, huh?
He gets his answer in the form of a long kiss that turns from sweet to passionate over the course of minutes. Ami tastes like him at first and that’s something Mal hadn't considered a kink of his, but now that he got a sample, he wants Ami to taste like him all over.
Somehow, the boy has managed to position himself on Mal’s lap, straddling him as he sits up, and Mal gets overly aware of what position he’s in when a bolt of arousal shoots through him yet again, making him gasp into Ami’s mouth. Ami grinds against him and as it turns out, he’s really wearing nothing but that damn tunic, they’re skin on skin now, cocks brushing against each other, and Mal’s head is spinning so violently, all he can do is place his hands flat on Ami’s thighs in a desperate attempt to ground himself enough as not to just come right there and then and prematurely ruin it all.
Ami shifts his hips, an expression of topmost concentration furrows his brow. He leans slightly forward and upward, bracing himself next to Mal's chest with one hand while reaching for Mal's dick with the other and… the noise Mal makes when Ami alings them is unholy. Ami's cleft is already wet, all slicked up and ready for him, and it trickles slowly into Mal's brain that the answer to 'what have you been up to?' was and is: 'I prepared to have sex with you and went through with it.'
Which is a thing that doesn’t fit Ami at all, Mal wonders. His Ami is shy smiles and innocent giggles and— so fucking sexy how he completely loses control over his face as he eases himself onto Mal's length, with his eyes closed shut tightly and mouth slightly open, making broken little noises of half-pleasure, half-pain.
There's not much Mal can do to make it easier for him. He tries to hold his legs still and helplessly lets his hands roam over Ami wherever he can reach. The need to see and feel more of this amazing human being drowns him. He goes for the hem of the tunic, lifting up the fabric – and Ami's eyes snap open.
Slender hands curl around both his wrists and Mal lets go of the fabric, which cues Ami to intertwine their fingers and, with a stifling sob, settle deep onto Mal's lap.
A shuddering breath leaves Mal's lungs. He didn't know it could feel like this to be with someone, but he likes it more than he ever would've thought. For once no malice, no hurry to get done with it, no leaning against the next best cold surface, no fists and pain and harsh words just to feel something. Instead, now it almost feels too blissful. It fogs his brain, brings his core to a burn. It's horribly slow and yet not slow enough. Somewhere in him blossom feelings that are new and heavy and sweet, and maybe the tender little plant can become more, maybe it is enough for a sturdy garden that could survive even this freezing winter of obstacles they face.
For a brief moment, Ami's eyes flutter open, taking in the man under him. And if the slight tremor in his body tells anything, it must be that he shares the sentiment.
As soon as he's used to the stretch, his hips start moving. He lets them roll over Mal in a cautious half-thrust and Mal gives in to his desires, jerks up to meet him, coaxing deliciously sweet moans out of his lover as much as himself.
It's careful and loving, full of restraint at first, then they find an angle that fits and Ami loosens up, gets more demanding in the way he moves and Mal is happy to deliver whatever the other needs. They change rhythm ever so often when it gets too intense, when Ami's voice breaks off in desperate whines and Mal's thrusts become so frantic he has to halt altogether until his brain clears.
He plants his feet on the mattress which is giving him more leverage to roll up against Ami. And Ami, good, honest Ami finally does what Mal so desperately wants him to do – he breathes out something that very much sounds like Mal's name. He's gone so thoroughly by now, it takes him a while to come to awareness of what he's repeating over and over, that he's breaking his own rules, but then he lets go of the cybernetic hand to bite down on his own fist and with this, biting back any noises at all, much to Mal's keen disappointment.
Mal reaches for his hand again, pries it away to place light kisses on strained knuckles without taking his eyes off Ami. Their gazes are firmly anchored on each other and Ami's worry only shows in the way he works his lower lip with his teeth until it is swollen and crimson. The sight makes Mal smile again, and for Ami that's enough of an invitation to dip down and kiss him breathless.
Mal closes his arms around him, squeezes him tightly, and allows his hands to start wandering. His fingers cautiously ask permission as they slip under the tunic, lingering briefly. To his surprise, Ami allows it, and Mal's hands explore further, stroking over soft skin and palpable ribs until he dares reach forward, closing his hands around Ami's cock that was caught uselessly between their bellies. With a sigh, Ami hides his face against Mal's shoulder, but he keeps the rhythm they settled on, rocking against Mal in fast, deep movements.
The tension in his abdomen boils up. Mal wonders if he's allowed to warn him that he's feeling the buildup approach overrun, if it would upset Ami if he'd speak up or if it would be worse to take him at advantage like that. But the way Ami clings to him – closer than Mal has ever let anyone get to him – gives him confidence that maybe they really don't need that many words after all.
He makes a little noise and Ami catches on immediately, hums approvingly in response. Mal can feel the chuckle against his shoulder, kisses Ami's neck and Ami's now slow-paced movements draw out even longer as he feels Mal pulse inside of him.
The orgasm washes through Mal like a wave of electricity. His hands snap to Ami's hips, holding him still as he pumps into him, silent pleas of ecstasy written on his face, followed by mute curses of overstimulation, bracing himself with shuddering legs, chasing and letting it go until he's lying there boneless, reduced to heaving breaths and sweat.
He hardly had a chance to enjoy his afterglow when Ami stirs, detaches himself from him, unpinning the fingers still on him and Mal looks up.
"Well, that was… not how I had imagined our first time." He tries to lighten the strangely tense mood with a half-laugh. He'd never complain about the initiative, no objections to a surprise fuck. But when he had fantasized about sleeping with Ami, it had always involved a lot more romantic atmosphere, naked skin and words of praise.
To his utmost horror, tears start forming in the brown eyes he's looking into.
"Ami…," he tries, reaching out, but Amiss is crying now as if he unplugged a dam, backing away from the touch as Mal reaches out a hand to him and Mal's stomach twists in shock.
"I'm sorry," Ami croaks, throat tight, "I'm so sorry. I know it's selfish. I wanted to sleep with you so badly and I ruined it."
Mal is so appalled that the "what?!" that bursts out of him is far too loud for the quiet room. Ami flinches like a dog used to a beating and when Mal tries to make up for his mistake, wants to kiss him and calm him down, Ami jumps out of bed. His legs don't support him yet, still too shaky from the effort, and Mal gets up to look over the edge of the mattress where the cute idiot he fell in love with is sitting on the floor looking utterly crestfallen. For a hot second, Mal is on the verge of panic. He hates seeing Ami like this and he hates even more that he’s the reason for it, but the whole situation is so ridiculously wrong it's really hard to stay serious about it.
"I didn't mean it," Mal says, voice like dripping honey. "You didn't ruin anything. Please come back to me."
Pretty eyes look up to him through wet lashes. When Ami makes no move, Mal decides he's not gonna let Ami humiliate himself any longer, and he gets out of bed to pick the fightless boy up bridal-style. He still weighs frighteningly little, Mal notices. Carefully, he sets Ami down on the sheets and lies with him, cautiously approaching, inch by inch, until Ami turns to face him and closes the gap to bury his face in Mal's chest. It’s a relief he feels in every limb.
Mal's hand strokes dark bristles of hair, just grown out enough to let his fingers comb through.
"It was different than I thought it would be. But it was still amazing. You are amazing."
Amiss is curling into a ball against him and Mal chuckles.
"Wanna try it with speaking next time?"
"Next time?"
"I mean, I hope there's a next time. If you want."
"Yes…"
"Do you want to finish?" Mal offers, his hand gliding over Ami's hip, directed towards his front but Ami shakes his head no with a little noise and Mal keeps petting his side instead.
They lie like that for a while. At some point, Mal has the mind to pull the covers over them and from then on Ami starts to gradually uncurl in the warmth.
He wonders what's up with the two sides of this coin. How a man who certainly has a fair share of sexual experience according to the way he acts, at the same time seems so frightened by his own needs. Mal hopes he gets the chance to find out one day.
Eventually he asks, "Are you going to flee if I get up?" There's concern seeping through Mal's voice that he had planned to conceal. "I'll go get something to clean you up."
The concept of aftercare seems utterly foreign to Ami if the look of confusion is any hint. Ami only agrees after Mal reassures him with a kiss that drags on longer than he had planned for. Ami keeps chasing after his lips for seconds and thirds and Mal just gives in every time like a lovesick airhead. But who could blame him? He needs to hear it.
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I'm seeing the sunrise and wow. yeah. it's beautiful. ive wanted to see the sunrise for years, maybe always. but ive never had a good view to see it until now. and sharing this apartment (which creaks and has thin walls) i couldnt justify standing in the bathroom all morning to see it
i happened to today at the perfect time -6:30. while i couldnt see the literal sun, the sky was such a pastel rainbow. the clouds a warm blue contrasted against pinks and yellows...
ive seen hundreds of sunsets: in a backyard, on the road, walks with dogs but i think this was my first proper view of a sunrise.
i feel alive and at peace. after a night of anxiety and grief i can breathe. im calm.
there was a spider in the window. at first i thought of it as getting in the way of the view but no, its as much as nature as the sky and as i am. idk if this post is any coherent but it grounded me.
things arent fine, the world is not fine but its also not black and white. we were never meant to comprehend the vast complexity and pain of this world. the spider does not know of capitalism or my own suffering just as I do not know if it is ill or hungry. we exist right now, the world is spectrum of light and feeling. it is both the most subjective and objective constant of this world. Our minds only having one perspective to gaze through, unique yet the same at once.
Yes. It's a cruel, painful world but it's not all black. It exists in rainbows of all things, neutrally and without human intervention. We exist as a part of this world and we can never fully separate or conquer the objective truth of this. We are mortal and no more or less than any other creature on earth. Not good nor evil, just alive, then one day, not.
Idk maybe this is why I don't write poetry often. I feel on the verge of something profound here but it's all just wax poetic. Idk it's just like. I live my life on the computer and the only people I see in real life are my mom and brother. (And sometimes dad). It's been that way for over a year now and I've lost a sense of reality and my personhood. I've had identity issues before but It's a whole new level of twisted. It's so rare I'm grounded and feel like a real person. I feel melancholy as hell rn.
Ike scrunches up his nose. “That bad, huh?” Well, at least he’s gotten feedback straight from a good source. Sighing, he lumbers out of the bush entirely, hearing a few satisfying pops as he stretches out his limbs to exercise them. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t much for hiding anyway.”
The next question’s a little trickier. What does he tell Ranulf? That he needed a break? But that doesn’t quite tell anyone that he hadn’t intended to end up in Fodlan. “Hmm… It’s a long story, but in short?” He pats at his stomach; (a lie, honestly, everyone knows the stomach’s further up than the abdomen).
“I’m hungry.”
Specifically, he’s run out of stashed cured meat. Or about to– it could hold for a few more days, but he’d rather not let it run that low. He could always go for normal game, he supposes…
But where’s the fun in that?
"Man, imagine the towncriers in Melior upon hearing this. 'Local Hero Goes To Another Continent Cause He's Hungry'. What a headline would that be!" okay, Ike had walked right into that, and also Ranulf deserved at least one. At least. In fairness, when one leaves all the people they know behind without a word of warning, sass is really the best they can hope for. "Hunting, eh? Traps, arrows, some exotic Fodlaner method?"
To the laguz, the other's deflection was obvious, however, Ranulf wasn't quite in the mood to squeeze the answers out of him, having his sunbath so rudely interrupted. A good old-fashioned hunt did sound potentially interesting, if he were to be invited. "What're you aiming for, big guy? Though to be fair, the names wouldn't make much sense anyway. Haven't got to the almanacs yet."
