XOqNI

[tongueamok]

Hello, this is Carlisle. I mean, it's not Carlisle as in I'm actually answering you right now, so if you're trying to reply to me at the second, you should probably save your breath because I'm not really here. This is some kind of a recording of my voice, but this is my communicator. I'm going to assume these devices are as common here as they are in other places — not my world, but others, ones more technologically advanced than where I come from— so if you'd like to leave me a message, then you may do so here, or er... Right. Here is fine. So just leave yo— [beep]

Comments

[einselective]

It has nothing to do with him personally. That's all I have to say on the issue.

[Frankly, she seems convinced that he's going to leave, and simply waiting for Carlisle to turn around and walk out that door.]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle just stares at Marian, a mixture of fury and frustration written in his slate eyes. One of them twitches, yet he holds his tongue.

He might not say anything, but what he does do says enough: he cranks out the appropriate glyph with record speed, slams that piece of paper on the jug, and activates it. The glyph lights up white hot -- appropriate for the indignation he's feeling at that moment -- and burns right through the paper once he's finished rather than just evaporating away.

The jug steams as he lets the cinders fall from his fingers as he shoots her a glare.]

You want to repay me for this? Or for the other work I've done for you? I don't want your help with technology. I want you to at least attempt to learn how to be a reasonable human being. Cast your prejudices aside, as they do both you and him a disservice. They will do you no favors in a hell like this, and he does not deserve them.

Though perhaps you do.

[And with that, he storms out, slamming the door behind him like the well-mannered man he is.]

[tongueamok]

[From here.]

"I'm starting to think you left these f-f-furs here on purpose," Carlisle notes quietly as he leans further against his partner, feeling the alien's spikes against his skin. "I had thought that you would prefer to enjoy this k- kind of weather."

He says that, but he makes it no secret what his preference is. He uses one hand to brush his hair out of his face, the strands grabbing at his fingers as he rakes them through his bangs; the other rests upon his partner's arm as they take a seat on the makeshift bed, guiding his touch along his torso and his abdomen.

[glacius]

"I left them here for your comfort," Glacius replies honestly, even if he's currently the one situated on them. It works out here, anyways--the soft cushioning the furs provide over the makeshift bed is doing wonders for his underbody, which is sensitive to all the discomforts of things that aren't pleasantly cold ice or fluffy snowdrifts. The pale alien spreads his legs slightly, the better to help his partner situate in his lap.

"Anyways," the otherworldy being continues on, tilting his head and smiling hotly as the clergyman guides his hand, please by the eagerness and the invitation to play into that, "If this weather has been orchestrated by the gods, and it works as their usual machinations do, then I suspect there will be plenty of time for me to enjoy it later. Right now I'd rather enjoy you. I've never been... with you like this before. Do... you like it?"

Glacius's voice dips to something more tentative now, as he rubs his bare legs against the human on top of him, experimenting with how different his partner's bare skin feels against his own vulnerable flesh. He's aware of how he looks, stranger and missing a good bit of his usual mass; he can only hope that Carlisle won't find it off-putting or think him weaker for it, but instead will appreciate the chance to be closer than they ever have before.

[tongueamok]

"Like this?" Carlisle repeats, reveling in the feeling of his partner's hand against his sensitive scarring. They're nearly entirely black now, the deep violets in them having darkened over time -- it's a fact he can't even consider as he attempts to focus on other things, like the question at hand. "When I'm dripping w- wet? Here in the shed? With you so- so bare?"

He realizes belatedly that it's definitely the last one; he takes a breath, his respiration picking up the pace ever so slightly the longer he basks in Glacius' affection.

"Well, the first isn't exactly comfortable f-f-for me," he says, getting around to his conclusion and hoping his jaw will stop trembling from the cold in the meantime. "The second, well- I mean, I didn't exactly think this place um. Proper for a coupling, but now that the opportunity presents itself, I am... admittedly intrigued. And touched that when given the option of enjoying such weather and being with me that you would choose me."

But Glacius is always so charitable. "As for the, ah. That last thing -- my only concern is your health when you bare yourself so thoroughly... but I would take any chance to be closer to you, both emotionally and... well, physically."

[glacius]

To all of that lengthy explanation, Glacius simply tilts his head again... then takes a moment to hitch the towel more tightly around Carlisle before he wraps his arms around the clergyman and flips them, pressing his partner into the soft, warm fur bedding. Despite lacking muscle mass, he's still got enough strength to maneuver a lanky human, it seems.

"I would take that, as well," the pale alien murmurs, as if he hasn't already proved that with this little stunt. On his hands and knees above the human, he stares down at Carlisle, his green eyes glowing in their sunken sockets. A moment later and he's craning his neck out, aiming to rub his scarred cheekbone against the clergyman's, eager to keep up contact between them. "But I did not mean to get so carried away that we rushed into this before you were comfortable. Here--take a moment to get dry and warm. I'll be okay in the mean time... there's plenty of water that I can use to accrete new skin if I start to get too warm."

[tongueamok]

As eager as Carlisle is for more of Glacius' attention, he does take that offer to get even more comfortable. "One moment, then."

Staying where he is, he slides the towel upward, not so worried about any moisture still on his legs as he is about his hair. Burying his head in the fabric, he uses both hands to give his hair a proper drying, or as much as one can get with a towel. It's only once he's done that he realizes that his hair, usually so proper, so tidy, is now an absolute travesty -- no longer dripping wet, but far messier than he'd like it.

He pauses, then finally pulls the fabric away, revealing a frazzled disarray of brown locks that Carlisle would rather die than be seen with. He reddens deeply, clearly mortified as his fingers curl around the cloth still in his hands. "I, er. Probably should have left it wet now that I think about it."

It seems they both have problems with appearances from time to time.

[glacius]

To that, Glacius simply stares at his partner as if transfixed by the sight of this transformation, or perhaps overwhelmed with adoration for the mortification the human is experiencing because of it, or perhaps both--though not the sort to take enjoyment from someone's embarrassment in a mean sort of way, there is something very fetching about the way Carlisle reacts when his usual composure and properness is stripped. Maybe it's just that he's getting to see another side of the clergyman.... or maybe it's something more.

Regardless, the pale alien doesn't give his partner long to suffer his mortification; after a moment of staring or two he switches gears entirely. Glacius gives a happy chuff as he suddenly flops down on top of the clergyman, attempting a good bout of preening while tries to entangle their bodies as much as possible.

[tongueamok]

That pause makes Carlisle wonder just what it is that's going through Glacius' head as the alien stares at him; he finds out only a second later when his partner flops on top of him, their limbs entwining as the alien rakes his mandible through his hair. The point tickles just a bit when it grazes his scalp, causing him to stiffen as he fights down a bout of laughter.

It takes him but a few seconds more to relax beneath his lover's frame, his own sinking into the furs. Though Glacius' body might lack the mass it usually has with its icy layer, he's still heavier and bulkier than the lanky clergyman; his weight pushes them both down, making Carlisle feel secure against the skins beneath him. He places a hand along Glacius' neck, the other at his scar, feeling the muscles move beneath his fingers as he gets groomed.

Another chuckle pushes itself out of him after a minute or so. "That's much better, actually. Both for me and my hair."

[glacius]

As it turns out, preening such a mess is quite the undertaking when you only have one intact mandible; Glacius starts out adamantly enough, but then begins to falter from embarrassment when he realizes his disfigurement is causing issues. Carlisle's quietly amused approval comes just in time; it snags the alien up from that treacherous precipice of internal self-debasement, who warbles softly as he starts anew on another spot... and then the hand directly against the unfortunate scar banishes his remaining woes over the issue.

"Ah... good, good I'm glad," Glacius murmurs, pausing in his grooming to tilt his head against the clergyman's hand. It's hard to focus on the difficulties the disfigurements causes, both physical and emotional, when his partner is caressing it like that... and that's exactly what he wants. Sure enough, he finds a tone that's more usual for him, assured and fondly amused: "Are you sure you didn't ruffle it all up like that just to give me ample excuse to heap my affections on you? Because I don't need one, but... I'm enjoying this, too."

[tongueamok]

"I didn't, but I suppose we can call this a serendipitous happenstance, can't we?"

Carlisle says that with a wide smile, his teeth no longer chattering as more color blossoms across him. He leaves the hand at Glacius' scar, allowing his other to wrap around to the alien's back. With his eyes still closed, he presses the bridge of his nose against his partner, trying to return some of the affection he's being given.

"Now that I'm not shivering, this isn't bad at all," he notes quietly. "I suppose this place has its uses other than ah. Storage. It's nice to just... be here with you, even with the rain outside."

He pauses, his eyes flicking away. "Might makes sure we have a lock for the door, though."

[glacius]

That gets one of those patented glowing smiles from the alien, his eyes full of warmth like the embers of a low but steadily-burning fire. "Yes... I think we can."

Glacius takes a moment to enjoy the coloring spreading across his partner's normally pale ski before he presses into Carlise's trademark gesture of affection. Meanwhile his arms hook up around his partner's body, holding him tight; he can't help but be amused at the clergyman's train of thought in the midst of all of this. "A lock? You're worried about a lock in all of this? You humans aren't built to withstand this sort of weather--I guarantee you that not a single person will be out in a downpour like this," Glacius replies, smiling down at Carlisle. That expression becomes a bit more sly as a thought occurs to him: "Unless... you are already looking ahead to future trysts..."

And now he can't help but try to tease his partner up further; one hand pulls back to worm between them, settling over Carlisle's scars, tracing them slowly in the beginning of some sensual ministrations.

[tongueamok]

The color Carlisle turns as his partner teases him is less red at that point, the shade so deep on his pale skin that it's closer to purple. "I'm not saying there would be future trysts in the shed—" and oh, as he says that, it sounds simultaneously disappointing and suggestive in some way he can't quite put his finger on, "—not- not that I wouldn't want them here, or that I haven't thought about such, ah."

Oh, that is not what he meant to say, Carlisle thinks in a quiet panic, his nerves stirred from their numb slumber by the feelings his partner instills within him. If he could sink further into the furs, he would, if only to hide his embarrassment. He tries to cover for that half-formed fantasy that nearly escaped him with even more words.

"I- I- I mean that, if we both happened to be here, and the urge did strike, I wouldn't- I wouldn't be averse to it, of course. To us. Here. What we're doing."

[glacius]

"I should hope not, given that is exactly what is happening now," Glacius chuckles, knowing Carlisle tends to ramble without thinking when his nerves start to run away with him. While he didn't mean to frazzle his poor human when he was so nicely relaxed a moment before, he cannot deny that his initial slip-up was intriguing, and something he'd like to hear more about despite his partner's attempts to cover for it.

So he focuses on those long, raking scars a bit more intently now, gliding his fingers over each one in turn as he rubs his bare legs against the clergyman's own naked skin. "Anyways, I like to hear that you're thinking about me. How about you tell me... what else has been on your mind in this regard? Tell me what you want of me, Carlisle, and whatever it is, I will do it eagerly."

All this is said while letting his hand drift lower over each scar, lavishing them in attention in the hopes that stoking some need in the clergyman will drive him to be more open in this.

[tongueamok]

"No no no, this is good," Carlisle insists, still embarrassed at his licentious behavior. "I just-- I've not got a terribly active imagination, but I might have had an idle, passing thought or two regarding... um. Regarding us."

He bows his head a fraction, biting at his lip as Glacius massages his middle. The scars are a mark of his curse, but in Glacius' tender hands, they become a center of unparalleled pleasure, their usually painful sensitivity transformed into something undeniably sensual. He may be trying to play down any appetence he's feeling, but Carlisle's body cannot help but react to the tantalizing touch of his partner, his breaths picking up in pace and depth as the seconds tick by.

[glacius]

"So share your thoughts with me," Glacius encourages, by word and by hand, which starts over at the topmost of those scars and starts to work its way down again, slowly but surely. With the two of them entwined together on a small bed, illuminated by nothing but the low but warm glow of the lights hanging overhead, and the sound of the rain pattering steadily against the roof and walls of the shed, the rest of the world feels further away. Only coziness and comfort remain, and the alien wants to bask in it, in the concept of them, together.

So the pale alien shifts slightly, lining their hips up a bit better to give Carlisle something to rock against should he find himself needing it. Meanwhile a purr rolls out of his throat as he cranes his neck out and nuzzles against that of the clergyman's, continuing his suggestion of just a few moments before. "This is a moment of closeness. Let your body and mind relax; let yourself simply drift through the peace and the pleasure, and tell me what you think of when you think of... us."

[tongueamok]

And rock Carlisle does -- it's a slow rhythm at first, just something to sate that longing welling in his abdomen. It is a step taken in the hopes of regaining his composure.

"I... I think of times like this," he starts, his eyes shutting as he lets his mind drift, awash in a sea of sensation. Glacius' fingers at his middle send a shiver skittering throughout his frame as he tries to subdue his body's responses, knowing how telling they can be. He'd like to think he has some control over himself, but he finds it increasingly difficult to maintain as Glacius tends to him.

He continues after a breath, his hand finding the hollow of Glacius' remaining mandible. "I like this, but- but I've also entertained the, um. The thought of you behind me, where you press against me so tightly that I can feel every... every curve of your musculature, and the points of your spines at my back."

Carlisle reddens deeper, a crimson flourish cutting across him as his eyes flit to Glacius, awaiting a reaction. He's clearly a little bothered by his own desire to engage in erotic indulgence, even of the imaginary variety.

[glacius]

While Carlisle has been talking, Glacius has seemed perfectly happy to let himself drift in a way similar to what he'd just suggested the clergyman try. His eyes had slipped shut and he'd let out steadier rolls of rumbling purring, content to bask in the sensations ignited by the intimate contact as he loses himself to the imaginings of his partner, fantasizing alongside him.

Then Carlisle pauses, and if it's a reaction he's waiting for he'll certainly get one: no sooner has he dropped that suggestion of physicality and intimacy both does the alien's purring rise up, breaking out of his throat in a deep, rich rumble of laughter. "How fortuitous," Glacius responds, "Because I've been wanting to try that same thing out with you."

So, rather than give his sometimes prudish partner any more time to be bothered by his own desires, the pale alien decides to let them both cave to them. Hooking one arm around Carlisle, he turns him over in the bed and then wastes not a second as he descends upon him, propped up on his hands and knees behind the clergyman as he presses his sinewy front flush to the human's back. A moment after that and the rest of him slips into place: the tine of his mandible against his partner's neck, one hand on his shoulder for support, the other cradling his abdomen and the scars that rake across it with all the care in the world... and of course their hips are still aligned, allowing him to feed sensation and pleasure into his partner from all the ways that they've devised together thus far.

"Like this, my partner?" Glacius asks, his voice a shuddering exhale. "Does this feel good to you?"

[tongueamok]

"What?"

Carlisle hardly gets that question out before there's a flurry of movement: Glacius repositions them, wisely not giving the clergyman a chance to reconsider his reservations regarding his own intimate desires. He's spent so long living a solitary life not because of his profession, but because of his curse. People like him aren't allowed relationships; he has been told his entire life that the twice-cursed breed misfortune wherever they go, ebbing it into communities, bleeding it into anyone they would come in contact with. Upon becoming one, even through no fault of his own, he forfeited his right to such commodities.

Things are different here. They are different with Glacius. He wants to believe that so badly, but his own doubts always hold him back.

But in this moment, no uncertainty has a chance to cross his mind as Glacius presses against him, both of them on their hand and knees. He shudders in tandem with his partner as the alien's frontal spikes graze his spine, the sensation not painful, but incredible when associated with his lover. The hills and valleys of Glacius' muscles lay encouragingly across his own, pressed against his shoulder blades and hips, the alien's arm wrapped around his chest to hold him in place.

It's probably best that he's held there, as Carlisle begins to feel Glacius' arousal at his back, his own increasingly obvious: he struggles to answer, unable to find his voice for nearly a minute as Glacius' mandible drags across his neck, eliciting an anxious moan that he fails to silence. The alien's voice does his composure no favors, that shuddering timbre causing a quake that rattles through his chest and down into his limbs.

"Y- yes," he manages, one hand briefly joining Glacius' at his scars. He no longer worries about his hair or the cold, simply wanting more of that stimulating attention to his old wounds. He is almost certain he can feel a spark of his own magic emanate from them, reaching through him toward Glacius' fingertips, trying to reach whatever channels carry the alien's energy. Carlisle's fingers curl into the furs beneath his palms as he rocks with his lover, his heart racing as he groans heavily; he is sure his legs would give out if he weren't being supported.

And yet he wants more.

"Do- do you feel that?" he asks, his breaths coming faster now. He can barely keep his voice steady long enough to formulate a sentence; he will one day learn the merits of talking less and enjoying the moment more, but today clearly isn't that day as he swallows a breath and tries again.. "Do you feel my enereraaahhg- gies? They l- long to be close to- to you, as I am, it- uhn- it seems."

[glacius]

"I do," Glacius rumbles out; pressed firmly and tightly against his partner like this, he can feel everything, metaphysical or otherwise. The heat spreading and flushing his partner's skin, the quavering of the clergyman's body and the pulses of need in response to the rhythmic motions of their hips working in tandem... and of course, those sparks of energy, rippling and crackling subtly against his own metaphysical pathways. In the quiet light of the little shed, the alien feels like his attention is hyper-focused on every little reaction, and he finds it absolutely intoxicating.

So intoxicating that Carlisle is not the only one craving more in that moment; the pale alien wants more of those shivers and shudders, those rattles and moans. He wants to inundate his partner with pleasure, to show him all the merits of trusting him with his desires like this. So the ice alien purrs again; while one hand keeps up its ministrations over those scars, he now holds the hand that was against Carlisle's chest out in front the human--fingers splayed, palm up. In that palm, a bright and shining light winks to life-- the alien's Mote, its rays shining brightly and vibrantly with the euphoria and love of its source.

"How about... I give both you and your energies what you want, then?" Glacius rumbles out. "Open a channel-- and you will have my power and pleasure alike at your fingertips."

[tongueamok]

The illumination of the Mote draws Carlisle's attention even through his eyelids; he opens them to find the vibrant light before him, held so carefully in the palm of his partner's hand, as always. It's not like his lights, not a tangible thing to be placed wherever, but a manifestation of Glacius' energies and emotions, as Carlisle understands it. A physical sign of his well-being, both inward and out. It's far more meaningful than the minor magic the clergyman himself uses so often for practical purposes.

The alien's purr spiders up Carlisle's spine, the vibrations sending webs of minute energy through his muscles and into his very bones. Someone not nearly as sensitive to such metaphysical fluctuations might never feel it; Carlisle, however, has been trained to sense such things, and his own natural talent toward magic has always helped him perceive what could not be seen by others.

... Well, not unless one had glasses like Kate's. He doesn't particularly want to think of her when he's in a precarious position, knowing what she'd have to say.

So instead, he focuses on the Mote, entranced by the brilliant light as it flares before him. He takes Glacius' offer: using one hand to hold himself up -- his body is still trembling from the stimulation his partner bestows upon him even now -- he reaches with the other toward the light. He's not sure entirely what will come of such an interaction and hesitates for but a moment: it feels so different from his own magic, yet familiar, inviting... like meeting an old friend. He has connected with the alien's energy before, but not like this -- not so intimately.

Pulling in a shuddering breath, Carlisle concentrates, channeling energy into his palm, opening the pathways through which he can feel the boundaries of Glacius' own aura.

[glacius]

Glacius, admittedly, is not sure what to expect from this interaction either. He's never allowed someone to interact with his Mote before, particularly not a human--and while Carlisle's natural attunement to the energy of living beings has allowed him to work with the alien's metaphysical energies just fine in the past, he's never accessed them through such a direct link, and never in the heat of such an impassioned moment. There's always the risk of feedback rebounding across the link, resulting in an unpleasant overload not unlike what happened the time the clergyman healed his hip so long ago... but the otherworldly being finds it hard to focus on any potential hiccups with this sharing of himself when Carlisle is responding so wonderfully, shivering and shuddering as his own energies continue to probe at the alien's.

And then, just like that, they merge and flow together as Carlisle's hand presses to that radiant light. The Mote pulses brightly and thrums against the cleric's palm as if acknowledging his access of the metaphysical link presented to him, and then a flood of the otherworldly being's energy courses around the human's, sweeping it up and carrying it effortlessly along like the powerful waves that burst forth from a dam. It is full of vitality, much like the alien himself: a source of untapped strength ready to nourish his partner's. To someone that often struggles to maintain his own, having this much energy at his fingertips will likely give quite the feeling of elation or euphoria... which should compound nicely on what Carlisle is feeling physically.

And therein lies another layer of the Mote; though it will take deeper searching to access all these different levels, which may not be entirely possible with the distraction of their coupling, the clergyman will likely Carlisle feel the beginnings of some feedback from the metaphyiscal link. It is the feeling of the Glacius' arousal in addition to his own, compounding on it... and beneath that is something less carnal, more emotional: a swelling feeling of adoration and love. Should Carlisle find himself hungry enough to try to probe into these deeper levels, he will be able to experience for himself exactly how powerful his lover's feelings for him are.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle is often so tentative with his energy, as healing is about control: the healer must maintain a tenuous grasp upon it so as not to expel too much of their own magic, leaving themselves fatigued and their ward in agony, their veins seared from the aural overflow. Some, like Carlisle himself, have a degree of control over the energies of their patients as well. He attributes this to natural talent -- he has yet to realize it is a mild form of his influential compulsion that he uses to excel in his craft.

In the instant his energies connect and entwine with Glacius' own, what Carlisle does realize is that he has no control at all in this situation. He stiffens at first, fear of the unknown setting in, his natural reaction to almost any given stuation. His one hand remains outstretched toward the mote, but his other relinquishes its position, falling back to his abdomen and to those old scars, as though they'd tear apart from such an incredible influx—

But his fingers fall upon Glacius' hand at his middle, holding him up, supporting him still. He's there -- they both are.

And once he allows himself to be swallowed by the torrent of Glacius' energy, Carlisle can hardly comprehend what he feels. The pure strength of his partner is no longer just physically apparent on the outside, but from within him, as well: it surges through him, sharp and cold and wondrous all at once as it flows deeper into his frame, penetrating his every muscle, every vein, and even the depths of his mind. He can feel not only incredible power, but... something else, as well, something far more akin to raw emotion than tempered thought. It is truly powerful and magnificent in its own right, even at a glance.

As much as Carlisle would like to explore that something else, it takes him a moment to find himself in the flood of boundless energy resonating from his partner. It's so easy to lose himself in the vast sea of metaphysical innervation, to let go of all his concerns when he feels so.... utterly indestructible with Glacius around him, beside him, within him. Carlisle might not have a full understanding of what, exactly, is happening, but what he does know is that he feels just terrific, a wide smile sprawling across his face the longer he considers it, elated laughter escaping him before he can reel it in.

He closes his eyes again, feeling them burning; the hand at his middle goes to cover them, reflexes kicking in. "This" — he stifles another laugh, so alive with unadulterated sensation that he can barely think straight — "this feels so incredible! It's almost- almost electric, through my fingers and back. I can feel you through it somehow. Does- does that make sense?"

It doesn't to him, but not much does at the moment as he struggles -- mentally, and unfortunately, physically -- to process all that is happening.

[glacius]

"Perfect sense, as you are touching upon a manifestation and representation both," Glacius groans out, swept up in the sensations of it all as he massages Carlisle's scars and rocks his hips against the clergyman. He can no longer feel those sharp, static jolts of energy, desperately reaching out to try and touch against his own; they flow together now, joined as they so longed for. That plus his partner's elated laughter suggests that he's managed to tap into those energies for himself; the ice alien wonders how much deeper the clergyman will be able to delve, but doesn't try to explain how or why that might be possible. Discovery and dedication are key aspects of the Mote... even if he hasn't technically gifted his to Carlisle yet.

It's not like he hasn't considered it in the past, but it's something his mind doesn't really have the space to think about now, not with everything that's going on between them, metaphysical or otherwise. The free-flowing energy coursing between them, the unbridled pleasure of their coupling, the deep intimacy of having their bodies pressed so closely against each other's... it's all so intoxicating that Glacius doesn't think he could focus on anything else if he tried. Even now he struggles to dredge up the concentration needed to keep the bridge open; the Mote thrums and wavers, yet he still stubbornly clings to the connection between them, his hand drifting lower to his partner's arousal as he tries to encourage him further still.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle is aware of the limits for how much energy he can channel through himself safely, having been well-trained in restraint. He has slowly grown accustomed to the sensations born of his own arousal, allowing the heat and shudders and longing to roil in his abdomen rather than suppressing them entirely. He knows well of Glacius' proclaimed love for him, yet as he explores that something else more, delving into the depths of this aural connection between himself and his partner, Carlisle can actually feel it for himself, as though the emotion were made tangible through this current.

Unfortunately, when reveling in all three of those delights simultaneously, they prove more than he can handle.

Excess energy rises from his eyes like steam from a boiling pot, the vapors aglow in the dim illumination; he keeps one palm against them to stifle their irritation, the other finally breaking the connection with the Mote to join Glacius' as the alien works him. Though his head is pounding -- something he feels suddenly once the connection is severed -- he is vocal about his wants rather than allowing his compulsion to speak for him.

"M- more." It's a single word, but when accompanied by a heavy, lustful moan, his fingers clawing greedily against Glacius' skin as he leans back into his partner once more, he is sure Glacius will understand.