Differences
Layle / Amidatelion [700 Words] Rated A
"Layle and Amidatelion try to navigate biology and a lack of."

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There's nothing about the Yukes that Layle would call particularly arousing. They lack familiar anatomy. When he'd go at it with Keiss, he knew exactly what he wanted and what he'd get. Three months of sexless, bashful behavior lands him in his current predicament. They didn't mean it but the harsh scrape of metal over the skin of his stomach felt good.

So dangerously good he whined.

"Did I hurt you?" They pulled their hand away.

"No." He swallows, trying to push the clawing, gnawing heat back down to the back of his head.

Even if they were together, that didn't mean a whole lot, did it? Did Amidatelion find him as strange to look at and touch? And did they find some part of him as charming as he finds their helmet? They touch the welts where they'd accidentally scraped him and Layle's head spins so fast that it forces him to lay back. Another hand pushes up and he arches into it, desperate for the contact.

"I forget those from the other tribes have certain needs." Amidatelion says it so simply, as if he hasn't been torturing himself just trying to think of a way to bring it up. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm not sure." Layle is sucking in lungfuls of air, rocking his hips forward for the small amount of friction his slacks could give him. It's not enough and he grabs at the sofa beneath him, nails digging in to express his frustration. "Yukes don't seem like they're needy in the same way."

"No, we aren't." The feeling of fingers trying to work his belt free ensured he stopped listening in a meaningful way. He flinches when unyielding metal touches his cock through his underwear. "That doesn't mean I'm cruel enough to deny you."

"Denial isn't cruel. It's- ah-!" He pries their hand away when the same unyielding metal fingers mishandle him. He curls in on himself, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Are you alright?" Their hand hovers over his shoulder, afraid to touch him.

Layle nods. "I'll live."

"I apologize, Layle, I guess it's more sensitive than I expected." They lean over him and press their helmet against the side of he head.

He rolls over, allowing himself to be caged in. "It's fine. Your armor just has too many rough edges. I don't need you to touch me, though."

"But won't you suffer?"

"There's more to it than what you can do for me." Layle moves the hand not being used to stabilize them back to his stomach. "I can show you if you're curious."

"Please." The casual tone of their voice makes him laugh.

Wrapping his hands around his cock normally doesn't do much for him other than scratch an itch, but with Amidatelion watching him, he feels more aware and sensitive. The plan he had to drag it out and try to make it less like a primal need rearing its ugly head falls through when the hand on his stomach moves to trace the curve of his hip bone.

Tears start to bead at the corner of his eyes when he forces himself to slow to an excruciating pace. "Sorry. Probably looks gross."

"No." They laugh. "You look nice when you enjoy yourself, Layle."

"Oh." His hand tightens and he arches off the sofa a bit.

Amidatelion isn't disgusted by his comparatively strange anatomy and likes him even though Layle is an absolute mess. His free hand hooks onto the back of their neck carefully as he is driven over the edge by a rush of relief coiling around his nerves. He gasps, tightening his grip as if he could stop himself.

"I usually last a little longer." He says, ears feeling warm but thankfully smothered in the red that has already spread across his body. "It's just been a while."

His hair is pushed out of his face. "I would not know."

Layle shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, silently chastising himself for getting so hung up on their differences only to forget about them. Now that he feels sated and unwound, all he wants to do is bask in their voiced affections and sleep.