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[ andyr's back arches, and a sweet, gasped moan filters out against the side of Steve's neck, as his hands slip under andyr's pants and grip firm at his ass, bare and unrestricted in the contact. steve wants to know what he should be doing, but god, andyr hardly knows what he's doing himself, grinding back against him, as his hand strokes over steve's cock, palm circling over the head and thumb dragging through the moisture beading at the tip. as steve's groping and squeezing at his ass, he's getting more of an idea of what he wants to do, but even with the dizzying, overwhelming want thrumming in him, that's likely a step too far.

and yet, andyr squirms a hand down to push at the waistband of his soaked pants, hips shifting to shuffle the cloth off, until it's around his thighs, and soon, shimmied out of and kicked aside, leaving andyr completely bare against steve, cock flushed hard where he slots against the curve of steve's hips, a shivered sigh rattling from him at the contact. ]

I want you to do whatever you feel like doing. There's no wrong answer, Steve. [ he whispers against steve's lips, coming up to kiss him slow and sweet and indulgent. god, but he can't seem to get enough. ] Touch wherever you want, take whatever you want. Come here.

[ releasing him for a moment, andyr's hands raise to steve's shoulders, and as he leans back, he pulls him forward, rolling them, so that Andyr's back touches the rock beneath them, and Steve's pulled to blanket over him, andyr's legs parting to frame his hips. like this, steve. he pulls at him to lay against him, not asking steve to strip down like he had - if he wants to, andyr won't complain, but he isn't going to push him to. there's just something freeing in being bared like this, in a situation like this, under hands like steve's, being kissed and held and caressed all over like steve's doing. ]

Edited 2016-09-28 17:41 (UTC)

[ There's no wrong answer, he says, but Steve feels like everything is balanced just on the edge of it, turned on and anxious and completely unsure in this moment. He knows very little aside from the obvious, aside from Andyr's hands warm on his skin and his mouth scorching a trail wherever he presses a kiss. He fumbles with his clothes, freeing himself of those thin pants, and it's hardly the first time Steve has seen him naked. Yet, this is the first time he's wanted to look, to let his eyes linger and remember the line of his hips and the dip of his navel. What his cock looks like. A shiver drives itself through him, blindly following Andyr's example, and when he's over him, resting some of his weight on an elbow and fingers combing through damp hair to tilt his face back, he wants so much that he doesn't even know how to begin to voice it.

Instead, he tries to breathe and slow down, a shy note to the way he kisses the corner of his mouth and simply whispers his name against his jaw. There are more kisses, touching the edge of his collarbone and breathing hot against his sternum, looking down and memorizing every detail that he can. Something still continues to war with him, telling him to stop and step back and give them space before they cross a line that'll be too difficult to ever return from, but the drowsiness of his want - a different sort of urging - smothers it flat, fingers splaying over his stomach and inching low. Lower. Slow and steady, and touching Andyr isn't really too much different than touching himself besides size and shape. And he's so hot, burning up as Steve's eyes glance at his face and then back down to the hard jut of his dick between his fingers with too many thoughts overwhelming him to ever pick one.

So, he just lets the first thing on the tip of his tongue roll out of his mouth, curling his hand tight as he leans back to bump his nose against Andyr's. ] I want you. [ It's such a simple thing, a heavy admittance that sinks through him, and isn't it obvious by how affected he is because of all this? He wants more of Andyr's touch, wants to hear his voice and feel the way he presses against him. The soft sounds and the sweetness that comes from it, how it grips tight around his heart and nearly chokes him with it. ] Tell me-- [ But he shakes his head and finally moves, lets his fingers stroke the length of him as he lifts his hips and looks down to watch.

More than anything, he wants to see it, remember it, and there's no embarrassment in that moment, teeth digging into his bottom lip as Steve tries to work it into a rhythm, testing what he likes and what he might not. He grips him hard, strokes him harder, and then, alternates to something slow, easy and lazy. It's all instinct now, thinking how much better it'd be if he slid out of his own pants and rocked against him without a single stitch of clothing, but he's too focused on this, on the testing and touching and watching. He's too focused on Andyr feeling good, tripping over every unspoken word he still wants to whisper in his ear and shuddering with it. Just a little more, he thinks, and his hand slides around him easier now, wetter with each push of his hand. He grinds himself against the inside of his thigh.

Just a little more. ]

[ He's lucky no one's stopped him from doing this, though he'd talked himself out of it for days since they stepped back on the Moira. Steve's been avoiding people more than he usually does, for certain reasons, and thanks to an interesting book that showed up in the mail, he's been reading to pass the time. About fish. He draws a few of them, settling on one in particular after reading about it.

Tucked in the usual place in Andyr's room is a folded piece of paper with a few fish sketched so that they're wrapped in flags like they're togas. It's the only thing he can think of to help bridge the gap. ]

Do you know about American flagfish? SR

[ ah, this has been a conversation he's been aggressively trying not to think about. and aggressively trying not to think too far into the fact steve hadn't spoken to him since they got a lot more than friendly on that island. most people he's been able to brush it off with - so we kissed, so we touched, it happens, forget it. he and steve did a bit more than just kissing and some light touching.

what he sends him makes it feel like nothing had happened, and andyr's relieved to find fish wearing flag togas, and a note about another ridiculous kind of fish. so back to normal, he's hoping. ]

yeah, though they're not called that much anymore. i'm surprised you do. or were you just trying to make shit up again and accidentally ended up being right?

ps, i dont know if i should give these ones american names or roman ones

I've been reading about them. You know, it's a lot more interesting than politics. [ Because those are the sorts of things he would find himself reading back home, what he filled his apartment with when he didn't have anything better to do, and for a few minutes, he doesn't know what else to say. Steve could probably tell him too much, even if it's not what he wants to do when he has no idea what he should do. Still, his fingers betray him anyway. ] It reminds me of you.

[ So I drew you a picture because I want you to think of me too. As if he'd ever send that despite thinking it for the last several days. ]

i'd rather watch paint dry than read about politics [ not a fan, but the politics of andyr's world are a lot more disgusting than steve's. no one's even pretending at altruism anymore.

and then there's that, and andyr doesn't know how to read it. 'it reminds me of you', which is a kind sentiment of thinking about him, but saying no more than that, could be completely innocent. god, when was the last time he did something like this? 17? after staring at it a moment, andyr resolves not to read any more into anything than what the words say. ]

sorry, guess you havent had the vent rattling to remind you about me normally. shepard and i got all this aquarium shit in that we've been working on putting together the last week or so. [ and it's been convenient in letting andyr just sit in a room all day and not think about all the nice but unfortunate things that happened on that island. and how much it sucks to come back to this, after having felt so goddamn alive. ]

Edited 2016-09-29 07:03 (UTC)

You're not missing much.

[ No one really likes politics, though he thinks the ideas behind them are interesting enough to know about, and that's where he's stuck for a while, rereading Andyr's messages and feeling... strange. Not confused. It certainly has nothing to do with that, not when he's thought about what had happened between them and what it could mean if there is ever more to it. Does he want more? Does he ask Andyr if they're okay? If he's okay? He's overthinking the smallest things, and Steve taps at his MID for far too long before finally continuing on with the conversation.

Better to pretend it didn't happen if that's what Andyr wants. ] You could always use the door if you wanted to visit. [ And then, just as quickly: ] But it sounds like you have your hands full. How's it coming along?

[ there's far too many lengthy pauses in this conversation for it to seem legitimately as normal as they're attempting to pass it off as. maybe steve's just busy - multitasking. and not sitting here staring at his MID like andyr is.

he closes his eyes, and shakes his head. if it isn't a big deal, stop making it a big deal. he's done this before - take something and shove it back to the far corners of his mind, then tell yourself it isn't there anymore. and yet, when the message comes, the first thing he types is: ]

that an invite? [ do you want me to visit?, but that seems too telling, and fuck, when was the last time andyr gave two flaming shits about what seemed telling? this is stupid - andyr, you're being stupid. ] its ok. i suck ass at this assembly crap. people have been helping though. bucky and his dog came by.

[ The ironic thing about all of this is that he's not busy at all. In fact, he's sitting on the edge of his bed and staring between his MID and the doorway (and sometimes the vent) like he's going to show up right after he's practically asked him to. Steve drags a hand through his hair and keeps up the pretense as best he can, smiling a little at the mention of Bucky and the pup. ]

You're welcome here whenever you want. [ Yes, it is an invite. Yes, yes, yes. Does it sound normal? Is this even normal anymore? ] Things like that take time. I'm sure you're doing fine.

[ And he can hear it in the back of his head, all the ways his subconscious is telling him not to do it. Yet, he holds his breath and does it anyway. ]

If you can't come here, I can go to you. See your work-in-progress.

[ it isn't just that they'd gotten far more intimate than they probably should have that's the issue of awkwardness here, or the fact andyr doesn't know what to take from what happened, how to even start unraveling what he feels about it, let alone worry about what's going through steve's head on the subject - but steve had been one of the very few people in andyr's life, since it became what it is now, to so actively seek him out. to give a shit about who he is, rather than what he is.

he'll tell himself over and over and over that he couldn't care less if steve hated him the next morning, because that's how andyr convinces himself of things, but the relief that spikes in him at the note that he's always welcome by, that he's still welcome by, is clear. regardless of what else he may be to andyr, steve's a good man, better than most andyr's met, and there's a part of him that just doesn't want to disappoint him.

so, having him come by to see him? certainly. it's easier to leave that up to him, so he can bail if he gets the urge to. ]

yeah, come by and see. i'm the only one here now, so come make sure i'm not fucking everything up.

Give me a few minutes. Should I bring anything?

[ Because he's going to try to keep it simple and just... be the way they are, the way they always have been. He doesn't have to think about that night they shared or the implications of what it is or what it could be if he allowed it to sink even further beneath his skin than it already has. Yet, the prospect of getting that close to Andyr again makes him feel warm, much too hot, and Steve pulls at the collar of his shirt before getting up from his position on the bed and moving towards the door.

Oh, and: ] What room is it?

nah, we got all the tools with the tank crap in the mail.

[ and they'll be an attached room number ~~that i don't know yet because we haven't submitted this thing oops~~.

once steve makes it over, he'll find andyr sitting cross legged in the center of a large room, a few tanks constructed already, some with fish in them, but a lot more of things that still need to be constructed. steve's toga-fish have also been pinned on the wall for the moment. seemed like a good place for them. ]

[ He doesn't send a reply, trying to keep his steps steady and not seem as if he's rushing to see him. Maybe, in some way, he is, and there's a strange sort of anxiety to that, not knowing what it's going to be like when they see each other for the first time since that planet and the year that had gone by with them on it. Steve stands at the threshold of the door for a second or two when he gets there, watching him and conflicted. He'd never been good with situations like this. He'd never been in a situation like this. ]

It looks good so far. [ For some reason, it takes him a lot longer to say that than usual, but he's kind of glad something along the lines of you look good didn't come out of his mouth instead. He smiles, crossing the room to join him. ] What are you working on right now?

[ for the first moment since that kiss, there's a lull in the downward tumbling of them, and andyr feels a sort of buzzing, nervous excitement flit through him, as steve looks over his bared body, eyes drinking in details, examining, tracing with his hands and his lips. he can count the times he's been intimate like this on one hand, the first time all teenage fumbling, and the second too fast and fierce to have a moment as calm as this. he hasn't felt this brand of nerves under assessment in a long time, and there's that basic thrum of desire to be appreciated, wanted and liked. to be a fond memory, something that floats into steve's head in later days and drives him a little insane. god knows andyr's going to be doing the same with the picture of him breathing heavy, all red on his chest, neck and cheeks, with the clear outline of his flushed cock showing, wet fabric clinging too closely.

it's a simple sort of affection in the way his lips part at the whisper of his name, sounding foreign and so much more weighted on steve's tongue, and andyr presses his face into Steve's, lifting just to rub his cheek against his - just to feel him, to be here with him, the simple and pure fondness of it. his fingers curl around andyr's length, and he shivers to be touched so intimately. i want you, steve tells him, with his hand feeling to warm around his cock, and his body pressing down against him with such a reassuring, pleasant weight, andyr entirely stripped and laid out for him. being open and free like this is something of a thrill, and when steve starts to stroke him, hard and firm and slow and languid, lord almighty, his head spins. ]

God-- You've got me, Steve. [ andyr breathes out in a harsh, hitched whisper, as his body arches and bows up against him, and his arms wrap over steve's broad, strong shoulders. he can feel the muscle pull and tense, fingertips digging in slightly, and when lidded eyes find steve's there's a breathless smile on his lips, pupil blown wide and andyr looking perfectly blissed out, as he catches his lips for a slow, passionate kiss, muttering against his lips as his hips roll up to meet steve's hand. ] Just like that.

[ a leg pulls up, squeezing tight to steve's side, and the other, with steve grinding against his thigh, pushing back up against him. this feels like heaven, having steve touch him so sweetly, making his body sing, but there's the concern that steve needs something else, that leaving him to grind against andyr's thigh isn't enough. ] Do you need more? [ doesn't have to be sex, but there's other things andyr can come up with. ]

[ when andyr lifts his head, and raises his eyes up to take in steve leaning against the door frame, he's not sure what he expected, but immediately picturing him half naked and moaning, with his dick in andyr's hand, was not it.

give him a second to blink blankly, as his brain flatlines. apparently this is what happens after one night stands come back to bite you in the ass. you'd think he'd have learned, after alva, but then again, he'd never compare what happened with alva to what happened with steve. different people, different things, different reasons. by the time his mind's back online, steve's crossed the room and come to sit down with him, asking a question. ]

What? [ he's beauty, he's grace. he's backtracking to figure out what that question was. right, what he's working on. turning to the side, andyr pushes some pieces out of the way, and unearths a page of instructions, with a technical drawing on the front of what the assembled tank is supposed to look like. ] This one. I've been trying to just open one box at a time, but I'm kind of starting to think they mixed parts...

[ Maybe it isn't fair to give promises he isn't sure he'll be able to keep, but for just a moment, between the soft affection of Andyr rubbing his cheek against his and smiling so wonderfully, Steve wants to offer him the world. It's a strange rush of endorphins, an intoxication that burns right through him as they kiss, and this is what he knows, the press of his lips and the depth of his mouth as he jerks him off with a straightforwardness that reads as anything but foreplay. There is none of that here, just a rough fumbling of limbs and bodies and an unspoken need between them that stems from deep in his chest. Elsewhere, too, but Steve is solely focused on Andyr now, not the pressure of his own arousal as he rolls his hips forward to thrust against him or the bite of his own sweat when his tongue touches the corner of his mouth. It's the slickness of Andyr's cock between his fingers, the heavy murmur of his name and that gentle question that pulls him along like he's lost in the current. If they're loud, it doesn't matter. Because no one would think to swim across that lagoon and find them tucked away behind this waterfall, and no one would ever see just how completely undone he is with Andyr wrapped around him. ]

Maybe. [ Said in a rush, hot against his skin. But he likes the way he says his name, how responsive and open he is, and Steve can't understand why it had taken him so long to get to this point, to chase after someone who might be something and means more than he knows. Steve kisses him as he pushes him down, squeezing the base of his cock and pulling up to the tip in one long, slow motion. ] No. [ And he kisses down his throat, trying to think but stuck on what it is he could do to him instead. ] It's okay.

[ Because he's moving again, letting his free hand push down against Andyr's thighs until they're parted and he can adjust how he's snug against him, thoughts numb as he follows the line of his chest to the spot over his heart. A kiss there, and he doesn't stop, exploring with his mouth what he'd seen with his eyes, feeling the anticipation building and the nervousness so overwhelming by the time he's got his tongue in his navel. Steve doesn't know what he's doing, only thinks about the things he'd heard so long ago in a camp with other men and their exploits, and he's sure he wants to give him something else, something that might be a little better than his hand despite his lack of experience.

If he goes slow, it's just a matter of will, and Steve drags his fingers from Andyr to taste them, to judge for himself before dipping his head and pressing his mouth against the juncture of thigh and torso. His courage is slow to gather, though he's too drunk on the feeling of what it'll be like to watch Andyr come to feel too inhibited by it, and it's a tentative drag of his tongue along the side of his dick before gripping him again and pushing his lips down around him. ]

[ It's probably pretty obvious that he's not looking his normal best. In fact, maybe he's a bit paler than usual. But enough about that. What about that new thing with Bucky. ]

Did I miss something?

[ andyr's still flopped out on the floor, lifting the MID on his wrist up only to answer the call, giving a short glimpse of his face before his arm flops back out. ]

Yeah, about two weeks.

Anything happen I need to know about?

[ He's trying to gently prod him into giving him an answer about that post, about why he was so mad. After all, he'd thought Andyr and Bucky were on good terms. And if Andyr even notices, Steve's actually moving through one of the hallways as he talks to him. ]

Not really.

[ he doesn't notice, as he isn't looking at the screen, and steve's getting a lovely view of the far wall right now. it isn't so much an issue with bucky as it is with that face. that entire genetic string, regardless of slight differences.

first three of alva, now three of him. plus, the slave trade and arena fights on the minicolony. ]

Oh. Killed some people. Don't tell Alva. [ if the people on this ship wanted him to relax and stop thinking about his fucked up home so much, maybe this place ought to try not looking and acting so goddamn much like it. ]

[ There's a sigh in his voice. ]

I won't. [ Mostly because he doesn't usually speak with Alva the way he does Andyr, and anyway, it's not his business what they talk about with each other. He frowns though, looking away from the MID screen and leaning against one of the walls. ] What did they do?

[ Why did you kill them? Though something says he already knows why. ]

[ there's a pause, andyr's eyes closing, to block out the peaceful ceiling and reflections of water shimmering across it for a moment, breathing out slowly, and feeling like he wants to be dangerous again. for the hate in him, for his own sanity maybe. like he wants to march back into the city and hunt every last one of them down, like some kind of nut.

that's what he'd been back home, anyway. some kind of nut. ]

Well, they were slavers. So it's less 'people' more 'human waste'. So, guess the more accurate thing would be 'taking out the trash'.

Edited 2016-10-22 01:56 (UTC)

I stopped some of 'em with Bucky before I ended up in medbay. [ So, he knows. Steve doesn't remember their faces or how many they killed. He only hopes it had been enough to free some of them, and at the very least, give them a chance to be free. Another sigh, and he glances down, rubbing his fingers over the other permanent mark that's on his other hand before standing up a little straighter. ] You know...

[ Maybe it'll get Andyr's attention focused on something else if he says it. ]

I accidentally got married while I was there.

[ andyr’s mouth opens to reply to that, having already known steve had been one of the slaves taken on that colony, due to the mark on his chest he’d explained, but there’s an abrupt halt to all of that when ‘accidentally married’ comes up.

L o l. Legit, he’s cracking the fuck up now. Brows lifted high and stuttered laughter coming from a wide, open smile. ]

Oh my god. How do you get accidentally married, dude? To who? Did you get accidentally divorced yet?

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