[ There's more effort, usually. More time building up to being full and wound tight and breathless, a few exploratory thrusts but Locus had been nothing if not thorough and York is nothing if not utterly boneless by the time he's halfway in, hands softly stroking through his hair and tracing his jaw in something like reverence. This is- there's an ache close to desperation without any of the urgency. A heat that threatens to overwhelm and consume that doesn't frighten him in the slightest.
It's just Locus. The same open, pale eyes that he'd noticed as soon as the helmet came of, that he could read like a damn book (when he wasn't being an idiot) close enough to blur. Just all this warm skin pinning him down as he locked an arm behind his shoulders to hold him close. Keep him close. ]
Green-
[ Breathless and drawn out, dragged up from the pit of his stomach where all that heat and crackling pressure has tangled up in this impossible, inevitable pressure. ]
no subject
It's just Locus. The same open, pale eyes that he'd noticed as soon as the helmet came of, that he could read like a damn book (when he wasn't being an idiot) close enough to blur. Just all this warm skin pinning him down as he locked an arm behind his shoulders to hold him close. Keep him close. ]
Green-
[ Breathless and drawn out, dragged up from the pit of his stomach where all that heat and crackling pressure has tangled up in this impossible, inevitable pressure. ]
All green-