PROMPT POST #1
Here is where you post your prompts and/or fills! Please read the rules first, and then go crazy.
ETA: I haven't, as of this point, deleted or screened any comments to the meme. There is a problem with LJ making comments disappear - generally speaking, browsing logged in helps, as I've heard clearing your history/cookies and refreshing helps as ( Read more... )
ETA: I haven't, as of this point, deleted or screened any comments to the meme. There is a problem with LJ making comments disappear - generally speaking, browsing logged in helps, as I've heard clearing your history/cookies and refreshing helps as ( Read more... )
"The joints can separate," says Tomar, and at Hal's quizzical look, detaches the pectoral joints and tucks his arms behind his back, presenting the streamlined shape of his narrow chest. Hal barks a laugh.
"I did that once when I was seven and I fell out of tree," he says. "Don't think my body was supposed to do it, though."
Tomar clicks his beak in agreement. "Perhaps not. I prefer to fly this way, during long space flights. The effects of the ring in vacuum make drag negligible, but I find it--aesthetically pleasing."
Hal hums, his fingers stroking upward. "Space shark," he says, and gently traces the pharyngeal arches along the curve of Tomar's throat. "Your skin's colder than mine," he says, and then maps along the curved ridges. "Gills?" he asks, surprised.
"Pharyngeal bone arches," Tomar corrects. "Vestigial, no openings anymore. My race evolved in the sea."
Tomar flares the arches in demonstration, and Hal fits his fingers into the spaces between. Ten warm points of contact, and Hal's skin feels surprisingly pleasurable against his own. Tomar inhales sharply, and Hal's gaze flick up to meet his. "All right there?" he asks, and begins to draw back.
Tomar catches his hands and holds them against his throat. An act of trust, perhaps, but Hal has already demonstrated himself well-worthy. And the sensation of touch, especially to such sensitive areas, is infrequent, and worth keeping.
"Sensitive," Tomar says, and strokes his own fingers along the backs of Hal's knuckles. "But pleasant. Would you keep them there, a moment more?"
Hal smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking higher than the other. It's an oddly endearing gesture. "Okay," he says. "Just worried that I might have hit--hey, did you know Kilowogg and I have our junk in the same place?"
Tomar's ring parses 'junk' to read as either debris, refuse, or male gonads/genitalia. He winces. "I don't know that I want to learn how you discovered this fact."
"Kicked him there, first time we trained." Hal grins, unapologetic. "Worth the concussion."
Curiosity eventually wins out. Tomar tilts his head, carful not to draw away from Hal's hands, and says, "And where do you keep your--junk, as it were?"
Hal raises one eyebrow. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." And Tomar blinks, because that was undeniably--flirtacious.
He takes a moment to think about what they look like here, hidden away in this alcove in the Archives. Hal Jordan's warm hands cupping the vulnerable ridges of his throat, Tomar leaning so close that their faces are almost touching.
It's a surprisingly arousing thought, and Tomar considers his options for a moment before leaning closer. "I accept your offer," he says, the tip of his beak just grazing the curve of Hal's ear.
Hal shivers, and his fingers pulse warm against Tomar's throat. It feels--extremely good. Hal leans in, and presses his soft human mouth to one sensitive arch, and Tomar hums, tilts his head to allow better access, uses one arm to draw Hal down to him.
He feels Hal's mouth--so warm, so giving--curve against his neck. "Space," Hal whispers against his skin, "is so cool."
Reply
I just...
dayum.
I love the vocabulary and slow, careful pace you used here. I'm TERRIBLY sad you didn't continue, but the in itself was a wonderful read because it seemed well paced with Tomar's careful and calculated personality. <3
Reply
Leave a comment