#talzed

“Hey,” Talon says quietly, drawing a fingertip over the seam of the helmet. It’s perfectly smooth, an indented groove that curves to mimic a jawline, but it’s still not the skin that he wants to be touching. “Open off your helmet. I want to kiss you.”

There’s a soft whirr, then a click, and the faceplate of the helmet retracts. Talon leans forwards and pecks a light kiss to the plastic mouth, too fast for Zed to even kiss back, then draws back. He keeps his thumbs on the inside of the faceplate, preventing Zed from closing it, touches his thumb to Zed’s mouth to prevent him from asking any questions.

Zed’s face was expensive to construct but it’s almost a flawless match for the man he’d been before he died. Almost.

The synth-skin is too smooth, despite its careful texturing, but the mouth is perfect. It’s the exact right shape, thin and tight with a little scar near the edge that Talon used to love to toy with. His eyebrows are a little too perfectly groomed but the sparse line of dark eyelashes frame eyes that are the exact right shade of red. Zed’s eyes are brighter than they used to be, lit up from inside, but the color is right.