His member protruded proudly in contrast to its owner. Lyon kept his hands by his side, ashamed of the obvious bulge. Your hands slid up to the top of his britches and they rested on the buttons that held them together. You fidgeted with the stitching, eager to start. You looked up at him, “May I undress you?” and with a hand now over his mouth, he nodded. You grinned and got to work unbuttoning them, pulling a string or two that helped keep his pants from falling should the buttons falter. “C’mon, up up.” You encouraged. He lifted himself, allowing you to pull his britches down along with his undergarments. His erection stood tall, thick, pale, and pink. A blonde curly trail led from the bottom of his stomach to the forest at his base. He was large and sort of intimidating. Nonetheless, the soldier you are, you pulled your hair back and grabbed his hand that covered his mouth to hold your hair in place. Awkwardly, he grabbed it.

Lyon closed his eye, looked up, and began to pray, “Grant me forgiveness, Lua.” You smiled while taking hold of his member and bringing it to your lips, “You are forgiven.”

Startled, I sit bolt upright, blinking rapidly. I didn't imagine the voice, it's Eleanor in my head and coming up the stairs. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

I make a sound. "Buh." And twist to look over the back of the couch at where Eleanor approaches from. Her eyes are like mine. Pin-point lights in the dark.

"Buh, indeed." Eleanor's voice hums inside my head, "I couldn't sleep. I suppose I hoped you couldn't either."

"No, yeah, no," I say. I pull my knees up and adjust the sheets over my legs, "Couldn't either."

Eleanor just looks at me for a while. Her wide smile gaining some kind of implacable quality. I can't figure it out in the seconds that pass before she asks, "Is that what you sleep on?"

"Huh?"

"I camp out in a furniture store, you know,--"

"I guess I--"

"-- you could have asked me for a bed."

"-- don't mind. Slept on worse."

Eleanor shakes her head. Even without the sound, or without it in my head, I can tell when she's chuckling. Finally she approaches proper, rounding the couch and sitting sideways in the opposite corner to face me, one arm along the back.

There is still that implacable quality in her expression. I think of Duviri, of what it tried to teach me before things got bad. Its storybook representations of feelings did not prepare me for the mess of real people. Eleanor angles her head just-so, like she is following along with the surface thoughts crossing my mind.

"I considered sending a message," She says eventually, "Over KIM, but I wanted to do this here. In person. Where I can feel you."

It sounds serious. "Something you gotta talk about?"

"Something I have to ask." She shifts to move closer. It's only slight, but the distance between us invariable shortens. It makes me very aware of what I am wearing - which is very little even including the bedsheets. I tend to feel naked enough without a Warframe nestled around my consciousness, but here I'm just boxer shorts and a torn tank-top.

"I'm listening," I tell Eleanor.

"Why?" The question is singular and intense. Eleanor doesn't blink and I feel like she is not just looking at me - but into me.

It makes me squirm. "Why what?"

"Why us? Why this plan? Why sweating your arse off late at night at Entrati's old desk, solving all our problems, running all our errands?" The words cascade suddenly into my mind and Eleanor inches towards me with each question, "Why - with everything that you can do - you chose this path? This plan? And why does it feel like if you win you'll choose to stay with us? That you won't just piss off back into space?"

I don't know what to say. There is a beat of quiet, (hum buzz, wish-wish-wish, gurgle), where I say nothing at all, but I do think some answers. Kindness is the way. I want to help people. It makes sense. I don't belong anywhere else that's real. Not all of them ring as true as what I do eventually put together into words, "I like you guys." And then more specifically, "I like you."

Eleanor takes it in and then her voice hums in my mind again, "Did I trick you?" Heat emanates from her, it's a secondary sensation, all in my mind. She has stretched herself over the couch, leaning over me, close enough that even in the low greenish light I can see all the details of her face. The seams where Techrot meets the last of her human flesh. The complicated expression that colours her eyes - shame? Hurt? Fear?

"No," I tell her. I think it as strong as I can too. And I think of her, nothing but the truth of her, because I realize with her mind against mine that I know what she's looking for. "I just like you."

"I could have pushed the suggestion," Eleanor tells me, still with that heat, "Made you like me. Or maybe you have some connection to the Techrot bringing us together. We should find Lettie, make her run a psych-eval, fix whatever this is so that-"

I touch her face. Palm against cheek. It cuts off her thought process, calms her presence in my mind. I feel the heat recede, I see her expression soften, and I see still the hurt it leaves behind.

"Sol," The word projected comes with a soft exhale. "I can't help but feel I know how this ends, then. You beautiful, impossible creature. The best thing in my absurd life. I'll lose you."

"I know you've lost people. I know how that feels. You're not alone."

Eleanor says nothing, but she bows her head against mine and closes her eyes.

"So, I like you," I tell her again. "And you make me feel not alone. And I hope you like me too. 'Cause I can't sleep thinking about it."

Tension, then release, and a puff of warm air on the side of my face as Eleanor exhales some quiet amusement. My hand slips to the back of her neck, hers comes to my shoulder. "There's only one other thing, then," I notice it now that it's gone. Her voice in my head lacks the pressure-whistle quality from earlier. "An embarrassing personal problem."

"The tongue?"

"Mmhm," She drags out the hum. It tapers into a purr that I feel through the back of my skull. I like it.

"It's not a problem." I wonder how much she has gleamed from me. This close, this present in my head. I tell her it's not a problem and she must know I like it.

"No, it isn't. Is it?" Eleanor smirks. It's all the confirmation she needs. She dips in and presses her lips against my neck, and her hand pushes me down onto my back. She is over me, knee between my legs, parting. I am covered in her shadow.

Heat creeps over my body again in my core, rising up to my chest. I feel Eleanor's tongue slip over my throat, then down to curve around me.

A singular thought has me freeze up. The sweat on my body turns ice cold and the little hairs on the back of my neck start to itch. Eleanor notices and I feel her pull back. The thought is my own, I don't know what to do.

"Oh." Eleanor realizes it too. Either just from looking at me, or from peering at my surface level thoughts. Even if she doesn't see the entire history of me - settling into 1999, the war against Narmer, a thousand years spent spiralling in Duviri - she gets the idea. She knows what I never had time for. "That's okay," Her voice in my mind becomes a whisper. She settles down on me with less fervor than before and kisses my neck where her tongue had previously tasted.

I make an odd, awkward sound. Something apologetic getting stuck in the back of my throat.

In response I feel a silent chuckle shake through Eleanor's body. "It's okay," She says again. It helps. I track the tension as it leaves my body (starting from my fingers and toes, comfort working its way up through my limbs until I feel present enough to hold my arms around Eleanor). "Sol, you're cute." Eleanor shifts to make the best of the limited room on the couch, wedging herself between me and the back.

The tension is incredible. Knowing what Eleanor wants with the intentional placement of her hand on my hip and the way she bites her bottom lip. "So you have never..." The thought trails off into an intense sensation which makes me shiver.

I shake my head. "Never had time, I guess, after Duviri."

Eleanor is listening. And somehow I know that she is thinking about the taste of my sweat.

"And things in Duviri were... Weird. It was all me. And most of it feels like a dream. Or a nightmare." My expression screws up. "Mood killer to get into it, sorry."

Eleanor reaches up and taps my nose, "Don't apologize."

"I know I want this," I assure her, like she can't feel it in me. The heat. "Would you show me?"

Relief floods out from Eleanor. Tension that she had been holding now allowed to express itself. She presses herself close and closes her mouth against my throat again. Her tongue extends, tasting, exploring.

She is gentle, and she is kind, and I am devoured.

part 4 of 4

          He didn’t respond, just instead moved closer and took your cheeks in his hands very gently. He gazed into your eyes, planted a brief kiss on your lips, and moved his hands to your scalp. You were a little confused at first, but after feeling his fingers start to work at the roots of your hair, you could’ve turned into a puddle. You closed your eyes, leaned into him and released a relaxed sigh. You swear you could’ve either cried or fell asleep. You’ve never allowed yourself to be this vulnerable before, especially in front of another person; completely at ease and your brain finally falling truly silent. He could feel your posture soften at his touch.