[ holy shit. holy shit holy shit holy shit, that was-- exactly what it felt like, that was matt coming for him, wet around his thigh, and just from the slightest touch to his nipple. even lance knows that's not how sex works, and he stares at matt with a stunned expression.
but apparently it's how things work here. he can smell that dripping wetness, familiar-sweet and alien at the same time, and it hits him like a hammer blow that he wants to taste it on his tongue. his thighs tighten around matt's leg without any conscious direction from him, and he jolts at the first sweet curl of pleasure when he rubs himself against soft, soft skin, mimicking matt's own motions.
he forces himself to stop, horrified at his own body. this is insane, he can't-- they can't just do this, even if lance is flushed and panting and wanting so badly it's almost painful. he wants to squeeze matt's breasts gently, wants to tease at the jewelry strung in his nipples (jesus christ, those piercings), he wants to put his mouth everywhere, and this is wrong, this is giving in to what their captors have done to them. ]
Did-- did I--
[ no lance someone else playing with matt's tits set him off like that. he shuts his eyes and forces his hands to dig into the sand at his sides, instead of sliding back over matt, fighting for clarity, but the loss of one sense just makes the scent of sex in the air stronger. ]
You smell so good. [ he swallows hard, dizzy and helpless and visibly beside himself with too many conflicting urges. ] I want-- I wanna--
[ he wants too many things, too many awful things that he shouldn't want, and his hands are already creeping up out of the sand, sliding back over matt's skin and pushing that robe off matt's shoulders, leaving him bare to the waist.
he wasn't prepared for it. small but visibly swollen tits, milk-heavy, strung with flashing jewels. the slenderness of him otherwise, and then the rising swell of his pregnancy, firm and heavy with kittens. lance's thighs are hot and damp already but that sight encourages another little gush of slick and he shifts his hips fitfully, mute, not knowing what to ask for. ]
no subject
but apparently it's how things work here. he can smell that dripping wetness, familiar-sweet and alien at the same time, and it hits him like a hammer blow that he wants to taste it on his tongue. his thighs tighten around matt's leg without any conscious direction from him, and he jolts at the first sweet curl of pleasure when he rubs himself against soft, soft skin, mimicking matt's own motions.
he forces himself to stop, horrified at his own body. this is insane, he can't-- they can't just do this, even if lance is flushed and panting and wanting so badly it's almost painful. he wants to squeeze matt's breasts gently, wants to tease at the jewelry strung in his nipples (jesus christ, those piercings), he wants to put his mouth everywhere, and this is wrong, this is giving in to what their captors have done to them. ]
Did-- did I--
[ no lance someone else playing with matt's tits set him off like that. he shuts his eyes and forces his hands to dig into the sand at his sides, instead of sliding back over matt, fighting for clarity, but the loss of one sense just makes the scent of sex in the air stronger. ]
You smell so good. [ he swallows hard, dizzy and helpless and visibly beside himself with too many conflicting urges. ] I want-- I wanna--
[ he wants too many things, too many awful things that he shouldn't want, and his hands are already creeping up out of the sand, sliding back over matt's skin and pushing that robe off matt's shoulders, leaving him bare to the waist.
he wasn't prepared for it. small but visibly swollen tits, milk-heavy, strung with flashing jewels. the slenderness of him otherwise, and then the rising swell of his pregnancy, firm and heavy with kittens. lance's thighs are hot and damp already but that sight encourages another little gush of slick and he shifts his hips fitfully, mute, not knowing what to ask for. ]