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The whirring of Shanks hums in your brain as you back up to reload your gun. Your eye is on the massive Fallen snarling at you, his voice almost cocky. You don’t speak Eliksni, but you can tell he’s bragging, insulting you.
You’ve got to find another bomb for these shield generators. You cast a quick look around the cave for one of the Shanks that have been dropping them.
In your distraction, he teleports.
The Silent Fang towers over you now.
You jerk back as he laughs loud. His armor is singed, but he’s barely touched, the shields humming around him.
You step back, and your armor meets the cold wall.
He sneers something and raises his scorch cannon. You duck under the blast, and he hisses.
Thinking quickly, you lurch forward, ready to melee him in the gut and make a break for it.
He catches your hand and slams you backwards, into the wall. You see stars as your helmet crashes against stone.
His hands are firm on your wrists. Your gun clatters to the ground as he shoves your arms above your head with two hands, pinning you there.
You blink the dizziness away and stare up at him, hardly daring to breathe, fear, and something else, trickling through your blood. You’ve fought the Silent Fang before, but this is a little different.
The Fallen leans in closer, growling something, and you can feel his chest rumbling with his words. Light help you, he’s massive.
You swallow, your fingers twitching.
He pauses. You watch him blink, and then his secondary eyes narrow at you. He presses a little closer, his next words deeper, quieter, questioning.
You inhale sharply, the smell of arc energy and Ether heavy in the air, and turn your head aside, avoiding looking at him.
You should be trying to wriggle out of his grip. You should be kicking and lashing at him, reaching for the Light, doing your damn job.
But you’re not.
He draws back a little, and you feel his grip ease.
Testing?
You don’t move.
You feel your Ghost’s exasperation and flush under your helmet. Ghost can tell what you’re feeling, and seals off most of your connection, leaving just a little, just in case.
The Fallen stares at you for a moment before crowding in close again, growling a question. His secondary eyes narrow again, his head angling at you.
You can’t help the tiny twitch of your hips, the soft gasp for breath, when a lower hand brushes almost experimentally at your waist.
His eyes widen. He hesitates, but then you see a new glimmer in his eyes. He chuckles low and switches his grip to pin your wrists in one hand so he can drop his scorch cannon without breaking it. Every arm free now, he lets an upper hand hold your arms to the wall, his words a purr.
You shudder as his lower hands drift down the wall, not quite touching you. You don’t know if you should watch his hands, or his face, or the dark keratin plating of his chest in front of you.
He’s cool and solid, and far taller than you. You’re not short, not by human standards, but you’re at eye level with where his diaphragm would be. If he has one, you’re not really sure. He’s strong, too, but still being surprisingly gentle. Though his grip on your wrists is firm, he’s not trying to hurt you.
You let yourself arch off the wall, just a little, your breath catching in your throat.
Definitely not how you thought this mission would be going, but you can’t really find yourself able to mind as he growls softly and finally runs his claws over your armor. He’s inquisitive, it seems, his touch exploratory, hesitating over straps and latches. When you twitch at his fingers brushing a dip of your armor, he pauses, and repeats the touch to drag a shiver from you. There’s a deep rumble in his chest at that.
He seems to have at least some idea of what to do, or maybe you’re just similar enough that he’s guessing, because he presses his knee between your thighs. You feel the cool hard keratin of his natural armor against you. You can’t, and don’t, stop the jerk of your hips.
His hand reaches for your helmet. He stops when you freeze and shifts his fingers to rest on your shoulder instead. He murmurs something that sounds apologetic. His knee presses against you a little more, rubbing against you, and you feel a little whimper in your throat.
This shouldn’t be as hot as it is. You shouldn’t be as into this as you are. You’re already half-hard in your armor, and it’s taking all your self control not to grind against his thigh shifting slowly between yours. You should stop, you know you should, but you also just can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re all too eager to let him pin you to this wall and get all four of his inquisitive hands on every inch of you.
And, okay, you’ve been curious about the Fallen for a while. You had heard other Guardians boasting about it, even whispers of Guardians who were in legitimate relationships with Eliksni. You just had no idea how to go about experimenting… until now. And maybe it’s accidental, sure, but hell, he seems just as into you.
His exploring fingers are starting to tug at straps of your armor now, slow and testing. He shifts his weight a little, and you smell Ether stronger. The banner hanging from his belt twitches a little. You wet your lips behind your helmet.
You glance up at him. He’s watching you closely, eyes glittering eagerly. You lift your shoulder and angle your helmet, nudging his hand. He tilts his head and blinks.
He hesitantly reaches for your helmet again, and this time, you let him find the air seal. Lucky thing you’re on Earth. One of his lower hands comes up to help, and you blink as your helmet is dropped aside with the same caution as his weapon.
He makes a clicking noise and cards his fingers through your hair, almost gingerly, minding his claws. You lean into the touch, a shaking breath slipping past your lips. He gently tugs your head back and trails his fingers over your throat. You swallow, and his growl is more like a soft groan.
One of his hands fumbles at his armor, and you hear a small click. You start to frown in confusion when he reaches up for his mask, and you realize he had closed the valve of his Ether tank. He unlatches his rebreather and slides off the lower portion of his mask, freeing his mandibles. You shiver at the sight of all his rows of needle-thin teeth.
His hand moves to his thigh to unlatch the armor there, and it clatters unceremoniously to the ground. Before you can even wonder what he’s doing, his hands are tensing on you, one sliding behind your back, and you gasp as he lifts you up, pinning you with his body instead of his hands. You’re straddling his thigh now. He growls eagerly and presses his face into your throat. You feel him inhale and scrape his teeth carefully against you, and you lean your head back with a groan.
Your hands are freed now, and you dig your fingers into the mantle of his cloak. His fingers tense low on your back and he pulls you closer, wedging you firmly against the wall.
Feeling a little bold, you angle your leg between his, and he jerks against you. You’re not sure what you can feel behind that banner, but you lick your lips eagerly anyway. He growls something into your throat.
He pulls more insistently at your armor, and you let him, gripping his furry mantle as he frees pieces of it to fall to the ground. More of his own joins yours. You shudder as his cold claws brush against your hips. A hand slides up your undershirt, trailing over your stomach. He tugs your undershirt up as he’s exploring you. When you feel his fingers on your chest, your breath catches.
He draws back a little, glittering eyes devouring you. He tilts his head a little and you gasp when his finger brushes your nipple. His mandibles click curiously and he does it again, very carefully pinching it when you jerk and curse.
He has a lot of other hands, though, just as curious as the one on your chest.
You feel fingers at your belt. You can’t help the small rut against him, the pleading sound in your throat. You’re aching in your armor, and you really can’t get a good angle this way. He seems to realize it, too. Once he unclips your belt, he slides you down the wall again and hooks his claws into your pants.
But then he hesitates. He looks down at you and asks a question.
Was he asking for consent? Your eyes widen a little, and you blink. You’re a little surprised, but then again, the Fallen weren’t really monsters. They were as sentient as any human. It was nice that he was asking, and trying to make it obvious what he was asking. It actually gives you pause.
But, well, you’ve gone this far, and you’re half-drunk with arousal and really not willing to wonder if you’d want to hike your armor back into place and put a couple rounds in him. You nod at him, hoping that’s the answer that you’re trying to get across.
You feel him purr deep in his chest as he tugs down your pants. You shiver and curse at the cold air against you, absently letting them transmat away when his hands withdraw.
He makes a surprised sort of noise and dances his claws at your hip. You fumble uselessly at his armor and try to jerk forward, but he presses a hand to you, holding you back against the wall. You go nearly slack under his control, panting for breath and aching to be touched.
His fingers are cold. You gasp in sharp as he wraps his hand around your dick. He’s so huge that he’s got half of it in his grip. He must feel you twitch at the thought, because he pulls his hand forward. He watches every reaction as he touches you, agonizingly slowly.
You melt into a leaking, pleading mess at his almost languid experimental touch. He rubs his thumb over your head, smearing precome over you, and you grasp for his armor, still held fast against the wall.
He gives you a much more assured jerk and you hiss a curse.
You’re suddenly filled with the fear that he’s just gonna jerk you off. Curious as he seems to be about your biology, you’re desperate to touch him, too, now. Find out what makes him tick, and how compatible you really could be. And you’re not a selfish lover, hell no, you refuse to let him leave this cave unsatisfied and thinking you’re shit at pleasing a partner, even an alien one.
You let your hand slide down his side, trailing over the plates of his armor, and he shivers under your touch. You fiddle with his belt, and look up to see his eyes widening a little. You grin at him and return your attention to the banner.
When you unclip the banner and let his belt hit the ground, you lean weak back against the wall with a needy moan.
You hover your hand above the twitching gray flesh, nearly like a very stiff tentacle from the parted armor plate of his groin, and look up at him.
He lets out a whine that hisses through his teeth with an attempt at a nod.
You’re all too eager to touch him.
His length is slick, the fluid semi-opaque. It’s full of Ether, you guess, trailing your fingers along his length. He leans forward, bracing his arm on the wall, the rumble in his chest a little louder, consistent. You gently roll your fingers over the narrow, tapered tip, and then slide back to the thicker base. You can feel small bumps slowly swelling.
When he thrusts his hips, probably not really meaning to, you feel more slick on his thighs. You nearly choke on your tongue as you slip your fingers back further between his legs. There’s an opening there, dripping. You rub a finger around it and he growls, shifting his thighs apart.
You take that as invitation and slowly slide your finger into him. He hisses in sharp, quivering, but staying mostly still.
Like the rest of him, he’s not very warm, but you rub the pad of your finger against his walls. Whatever he groans out is surely a curse as you press in another finger. You suspect there’s not really any stretching for him yet--he’s just that large. You thrust your fingers in him, relishing in the sounds he’s making, coating your hand in his slick. He’s trying hard not to grind down into your hand, clearly, with just little twitches to give him away.
You’d nearly forgotten his hand on your dick until it moves, and you jerk your fingers into him a little harder than you intentioned. You murmur an apology and rub him more gently and insistently to make up for it.
His hand is moving down now. You shudder as he cups your testes for a moment, thankfully very gentle with his claws against fragile flesh, and then he clicks a little when his fingers find nothing terribly interesting beyond it. You can only offer a helpless shrug at first.
He keeps going, though, and you hook your fingers a little when he taps at your ass. He growls, looking almost disappointed.
You swallow and look up at him. You have no other way to ask. You slide your fingers free of him, making him cut off an almost needy whine that goes right to your dick. When he looks at you, you gesture to his length. He eyes you. You feel a little silly as you make a circle in one hand and thrust your fingers through it, and then point at yourself.
His eyes go wide and he lets out a startled laugh. He says something, but nods.
You grin at him.
He tilts his head in confusion when you push his hand away from your entrance, but withdraws. Your fingers are still covered in his slick. You lick your lips and press a finger into yourself.
He makes a nearly choked moan as he watches you. His length twitches.
Your breathing is a bit harsh, but you force yourself to relax as you finger yourself. You press in another and groan, head leaning back, searching inside yourself.
You can just barely reach it. You jerk hard and curse at the jolt. His hands grab for you, pressing you back, trying to look at you better. You wiggle your fingers in yourself as you watch him reach a hand for himself, slowly jerking himself off with that deep purr in his chest, his jaw parted with his breath rasping between those rows of serrated teeth.
You lick your lips eagerly and slide your fingers out.
He makes a sound like a chirp, which is actually kind of adorable, and starts to push you into the wall, but you reach a hand to his chest. You’ve got a different idea.
You turn to face the wall and brace your arms against it.
He growls low and his hands find you, three of them roaming. It takes him a minute to adjust the both of you with his height, but then finally you feel his searching tip nudge your entrance.
You hold still as it moves on its own, worming into you. His hand finds your wrists again, and he gives a sharp thrust of his hips that has you nearly crying out. He’s not terribly thick, but long, wet, and moving inside of you. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before.
It feels fantastic.
He’s got two hands at your hips, slowly thrusting and pulling out. He’s not really fucking into you, like you’d almost expected, but the wriggling of his length more than makes up for it.
It quickly find exactly what you were hoping it would find. You jolt with a gasp, back arching, moaning a curse.
He freezes, and then you feel it move in you, searching more purposefully, until you claw at the wall helplessly, pleading wordlessly.
He growls, low, deep, dangerous, and suddenly he’s yanking you away from the wall. You’re entirely at his mercy.
He pulls you downwards, refusing to let go or slide out of you, and you don’t want him to. You let him pull you to your knees. He braces a hand on the ground for balance and presses another to your back, encouraging you to bend forward. You whimper as he leans over you and pushes in deeper. You drop to your elbows, head hanging, staring underneath yourself at your neglected dick bobbing underneath you. He’s knelt as well, equalizing your heights more for a much, much better angle.
You can feel him grind the thick, rounded base against you. You keen and push back into him. If he wants to get that into you, as well, with all those little bumps, you’re more than happy to have it in you.
He’s saying things to you, purring as he’s grinding into you, breathless. Like he’s babbling senselessly. It’s kind of cute, you think in delirium.
And then you jerk with a gasp.
He freezes, and then you feel him shudder with a low, blissful moan.
As soon as he had wedged the base of his length into you, you can feel it start to swell, growing hard against you, the bumps of it rubbing you and pinning him securely inside of you. He’s slowly moving his hips, his fingers shaking.
You suddenly wonder if this might have been a good idea.
Oh, yes, it was, you think when he wraps a hand around your dick again. He tugs you slowly, almost lazily, focusing more on trying to find your prostate again with his squirming length.
You do yelp out this time, hips jerking, but you can’t move, can’t thrust into his hand. He’s so hard and full inside you that you’re stuck to him.
You want to come. You could cry, you want to come so badly.
He purrs something to you, his tone so gentle now, leaning low over you, two arms wrapping around your torso to hold you tight to him. He pulls you up, sitting back, and your legs splay out over his thighs. You lean back into his chest. He’s still slowly stroking you, and he trails a hand up your thigh.
Blindly, you reach your hand for his face, cupping his jaw. He presses his face into your palm with a whine. You clench yourself around him and he jerks.
He hisses in and his hands tighten. He pins you close and you can feel his length give an erratic thrash that tears a pleading sound from you.
He pulls you flush and you feel the hard base of him pulse before he comes.
Cool fluid pours into you. It’s strange, but fuck if it doesn’t feel good. He breaths shallow and sharp with small whines, his length twitching, pulsing inside of you.
There’s a lot of come.
Even when his breathing evens out, he’s still filling you with fluid. You feel a little dizzy and lean back into him with a groan. He runs fingers through your hair, purring softly, murmuring in Eliksni things you can’t understand.
You press a hand to your stomach after what had to be nearly a minute. You feel a little gurgle in your throat at the tension there. It’s so much and he’s still going, still locked to you, though his length is lazily twitching now.
His fingers vanish from your dick and you shudder. You look down, past the slightly visible swelling of your stomach, to see his hand between his own thighs. His fingers are slick when he trails them up your thigh and back to your dick. You whimper when you realize it’s his come from his opening.
He starts stroking you again, firmly, focusing all his attention on you. Every twitch, every sound, he seems to be noting with interest. He presses gently against a vein and swipes his thumb over your leaking slit. He makes a small humming sound and brushes another finger against your tip, gathering the precome, and you stare with wide eyes as he brings it to his mouth. You can’t even moan at the sight, you’re so desperately aroused.
How is he still coming?
You’re dizzy, feeling sort of bloated, so full, and still painfully horny. You feel like you’ll never come, you’ll sit here, at the edge of it, the Fang’s dick-thing stuck inside you forever, pouring his come into you until you explode. It’s awful, terrible, and you want to feel it for the rest of your life. It’s so, so good.
He’s not even trying to get you to come. He’s teasing, his touch so light. He’s still running fingers lazily through your hair, two hands resting at your hips.
He feels you twitch and pulls his hand away. You choke and lean forward, a pleading sob in your throat. He shushes you and grabs your wrists.
He is trying to deny you!
You grind helplessly against him, clenching tight, trying to get something, anything. Your vision is blurry, and you’re shaking. He laughs softly and purrs to you.
You stay there, agonizingly hard, precome dribbling, unable to do anything but tremble and moan and plead with him. He trails fingers soothingly over you, your skin feeling feverish, like solar Light crawling through your veins.
Finally, when you think you might just pass out, he shifts with a shuddering sigh. You let out a gurgling moan as fluid comes leaking out around his softened length. Slowly, he moves you forward to slip out of you, and you press your fingers against yourself as his come spills out of you. Deliriously, you want to plug yourself up, keep it there, keep yourself full.
He still won't let you touch your dick.
You turn to glare at him, panting, trying to jerk your hips. He chitters and leans forward to nuzzle you.
You take him by surprise and wrench yourself from his grip. His eyes go wide.
You move fast, spinning around to face him. You plant yourself back on his lap. Your hands find his mantle for leverage and pull him down to try and kiss him.
He seems startled by your lips against his mandibles. His hands rest at your hips and he lets out a startled purr. It's a little awkward, trying to kiss something without lips. You trail your lips over his jaw and find his throat. There's a vessel there, you can feel it, but it's cold. Ether? When you kiss at it, scrape your teeth on him, he shudders and gasps.
You still want to come, but you can readily admit that the denial's doing something for you.
After a few moments you draw back and glance down. Your eyes widen.
There's no way he's hard again.
You groan out a curse as you reach for him. He growls low and twitches.
He's absolutely hard again.
You can't take him again, no way. It's tempting, but you have limits.
You've got to hope you can get him off a different way. You wet your lips and eye him.
The Silent Fang asks you something. You don't know what he's saying. He huffs in frustration at the language barrier. It must not be too important because he shakes his head.
You move back, hissing at the still stuffed feeling. He narrows his eyes, leaning forward after you. You tap your fingers to his chest, halting him.
The cave floor isn't very comfortable. You push at his knees. He seems confused, but sits back, letting you press his thighs apart.
You are wondering if you're insane.
You also don't care. What you are is insanely horny, and hard, and staring at the Fang's dripping length and slick hole.
How many times can the Fallen come? Was it related to their size? You're dying to find out the hard way. You crawl forward between his thighs. He watches you in confusion.
You hope it isn't toxic. Then again, you're already full of it anyway, and you’re a Guardian. If it is, you’ll heal. Or at least come back to life if it kills you. You press a hand against his hip and reach for his length.
He's leaning on his upper arms, the lower pair twitching against his thighs. He grunts softly as you stroke him.
His half-closed eyes snap open as you lean down. He says something, startled; you ignore him.
You hold him still as you let your tongue dip out.
He tenses with a trill.
You're not sure what you expected. He tastes kind of metallic, rather than salty. And almost like the way rain smells. It's surprisingly pleasant.
You keep a hand firm on his hip. Your other holds him still as you lick up his length.
He hisses in sharp. You lift your hand from his hip to grab his hand and bring it to your hair. He knits his fingers in your hair with a pleading whine that goes straight to your aching dick.
You feel a smug little burst of pride. You're definitely the first person to give this Fallen oral, and he's turning to putty from your lips.
You suck lightly at his tip and he arches his back, claws scraping the stone. You glance up at him. His mandibles are parted, jaw dropped, secondary eyes half-lidded. It’s an expression of utter bliss, clearly.
You definitely are not going to try to jam that swelling base into your mouth. You like your jaw unshattered. But you're feeling bold. You want to show him the definite benefits of a human lover.
You shift just a little and draw more of his length between your lips. You take your time, slowly letting more slide in before pulling off to suck gently at the tip. You can feel his legs shaking around you. He seems unable to even speak his own language now, wordless trills and pleading moans and resonating growls the only noises he can make, and he’s making a lot of them.
He’s moving in your mouth. It’s the weirdest thing, and you almost gag, but you dig your fingers into his hip and swallow around his length stuffed down your throat. He seizes up with a shrill bark.
You really can’t get much more into your mouth, and your eyes are already pricking. You work backwards, trailing apologetic kisses over his length at his needy growl.
He’s got something else that you want to shower in affection.
You push at his thigh again, urging him to bend his knee. He whines, leaning back on his elbows as you nearly lay down between his legs. He can still reach your hair, to your delight. You’re at a slightly awkward angle, trying to keep your dick off the cold stone ground. It’s not a big concern for you with the Fang’s rain-scented, slick hole inches from your mouth.
You grip his thigh for balance and press your mouth to him.
His purr seems to rumble through the ground. You run your tongue around him, tasting the dripping flesh, and dip your tongue into him. How many sounds can you drag out of him?
You trail fingers up the keratin plate of his thigh and let your hand join your mouth, slowly thrusting your fingers into him, crooking against him, dragging it out until you’re breathless.
He’s babbling again, crooning out slurred Fallen speak, and you can’t be sure, but it sounds like praise and pleading. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, flat on his back now, arching his spine. His claws are tight in your hair, but he’s not pulling you, letting you do what you want.
You kind of want to stay here and eat him out for the next couple of hours.
You let your other hand find his length wriggling just beside your face and give him a few firm tugs, squeezing trills from him. You press against the little bumps of the swollen base. It’s pretty hard under your hand, quivering, dripping with Ether-streaked slick. You’re guessing he’s close. Good.
You pull away all contact from him and sit back.
It’s immediate. The Fang blindly reaches every hand for you, pleading, nearly begging. You press your wet fingers into your thigh, devouring the sight of him. A creature ten feet tall, a being from another world, a seasoned soldier, reduced to a whimpering, begging mess by your lips.
You crawl forward again and suck gently at his tip.
His hands scrabble for you as he goes tense. You grip him tightly as his length pulses.
You can’t quite pull back quickly enough. A gush of fluid spills into your mouth. You nearly cough, but manage, somehow, to control yourself. You let most of it dribble out, but you’ve definitely swallowed a fair bit. It feels cold down your throat.
He pants, hips twitching. You stroke his length and thrust your fingers into him, working him through it until he’s whining and twisting his body. He’s still coming, though. You press your fingers into him deeper, earning a choked sound. He isn’t stopping you as you work three fingers into his hole, soaking your hand, rubbing against him.
You murmur to him now, as he had been doing to you, soft praises that were a little nonsensical, but you don’t really care. You don’t speed your pace, just languidly fingering him as he’s coming. All he can do is purr, his glittering eyes unfocused, his fingers twitching.
Finally, you can feel him shaking as his length gives a few more half-hearted twitches, the gush slowing to a trickle.
You hesitate, and then press into him again.
He growls, claws scraping the floor. You grin at him.
He focuses his eyes on you, and they’re hungry.
He tenses, and then shoves himself upright.
You draw your fingers back quickly.
The Fang leans forward toward you, slow, unblinking. You swallow and lean away.
He presses a hand to the floor, then another, for balance.
You sit back.
He’s on his knees now, towering over you, teeth glimmering in the low light, his breathing hissed and sharp.
He slides a hand under you and hauls you close to bury his teeth in your throat. You shudder, grab for his mantle, as he inhales deeply and growls. It’s a desperate, starving sound. His teeth barely prick your skin at all, and you almost wish he would. You let your head fall back to expose yourself further.
It’s a sharp bite. You gasp, and he draws back immediately.
It’s not enough to maim. There’s probably blood, but it’s definitely superficial. You grasp him tighter to let him know it’s okay.
The Fang lowers you, though. You brace yourself on your forearms, wondering what plan he has now.
He’s looming over you. You don’t want to say it’s predatory, that sounds weird, but it’s definitely something. Maybe he’s trying to make up for the moaning mess you had made him, trying to be intimidating or something. It’s working a little bit, but mostly working to make your dick ache and twitch.
He says something, and then grunts, eyes narrowing, remembering you can’t understand each other. He grabs your thigh and urges you to lift a leg.
Your eyes widen. You definitely can’t handle being filled up again, could you, there’s no way. You’re still leaking slowly.
Fuck it. You’re so turned on and it felt so damn good the first time. You’re willing to try it.
You reach down as he pulls you closer. You grab for his length, already starting to stiffen and leak again. When you move your fingers to stuff yourself again, he taps your wrist and angles his head at you. His question is clearly asking if you’re sure about this.
And hell no, you’re not, but you’re a Guardian, dammit, you won’t back down from a challenge.
Apparently that challenge is going to be how long you can stay hard without coming. You press your fingers into yourself. He watches you from this angle with wide eyes. He reaches for himself and scrapes his claws against the stone. He lifts one hand and glares at his claws. You shiver at the thought of his long fingers pressing deep into you. You’re far less keen on his thick sharp claws, though.
He looks back at you when you let out a small sound. You slow your movements, watching him. He’s enraptured. You grin and shift yourself so he can see you better, watch you finger yourself a little better, for another minute or so. It’s less for prep and more for a good show now.
You let your fingers slide out.
He hesitates.
You grab at his mantle and jerk your hips, a plea on your lips.
You still want to come.
And you want more come to fill you. You want to be stuffed full, you want him locked tight in you, you want him as deep into you as he can get.
He leans over you and presses your hands above your head, into the floor. One hand guides his length, and another is at your hip.
You twitch and moan out as he slides back into you. It’s just as good. Better.
He slowly pulls you closer, your legs spreading around his hips.
You retract your earlier frustration. Maybe it’s the denial, maybe it’s the madness of just how aroused you are, but you don’t even care if you come anymore. You’re in love with the way he feels inside you, curling into your walls, searching again for--
You see spots over your vision and writhe.
The Fang makes a sound between a growl and a tender coo and grips your thighs in his lower hands. An upper pins your wrists, and the other braces against your back. He leans forward and fucks slowly into you, grinding against you. He nudges the base against you and looks at you with a questioning sound.
You’re probably completely insane, and you don’t care. You press down against him.
He works himself into you again and you feel boneless as he hardens in you, length wriggling eagerly. You arch your back with a delirious giggle.
He looks almost worried. He lets go of your hands to cup your face. You grab his wrist, turn your head, kiss his palm.
You are not going to be able to walk again for a while.
When his fingers touch you, you choke out. He’s still barely touching you, and you feel him lower. He’s cupping your balls, so very, very gentle. Exploring you. You’re still dribbling precome onto your stomach.
You slide your hand down your stomach, but you don’t touch yourself. You press down, and let out a long, low groan. You can feel him hard inside of you.
He searches his hands around you and pulls you upright. You whimper as it tugs at the connection between you. Then you’re sitting on his lap again, and he’s holding you into him. He’s purring hard, and you feel the vibrations in every part of you. You roam your fingers over his plates and kiss at his chest. There isn’t a whole lot else you can do.
Fortunately, or maybe not, you don’t know, and you don’t really care, it seems like he’s close again. He’s cooing softly to you and his length is erratic in you.
You whisper a plea to him.
He doesn’t understand the words, but he must know the meaning, because he pulls you tightly to his chest and cuts off a howl with a hand to his teeth.
It’s your turn to babble senselessly as you’re filled again.
It’s praises, pleas, you don’t know. You want him to leave you on the edge forever and just keep coming in you. It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt in all your lives.
Shakily, you work a hand past yourself and find his hole.
He jerks and yelps as you press fingers into him. It’s an awkward angle, but you try. He whines, knees splaying, letting you play with him as he’s stuffing you full.
It’s another full minute, at least. You crook your fingers as your arm is starting to ache.
The Fang coos softly and urges your hand from him, pulling your hand to his face. He presses his mouth to your palm, like you had done to him. He lowers his jaw to inhale the scent from your wrist. It must be a Fallen thing, the scent thing. His hands are touching you, gentle and soothing.
He shifts again, slowly, moving so he isn’t sitting on his knees. You couldn’t possibly be closer to him now. Whatever he’s saying to you is so soft and gentle. You aren’t sure you’d say loving, but it’s clearly affectionate. Maybe more so than you’d expect from someone trying to kill you not that long ago, but you also don’t really know much about Fallen, and maybe it’s some kind of bonding thing. It’s not a bad thing.
Light help you, he’s still coming.
You lean into him, somewhere between blissfully exhausted and unbearably aroused.
It’s another minute of him softly talking to you and running his hands over you before he finally shifts and lets his softening length slide away. You shudder at the come that spills from you again and press your face into his chest. Your hips twitch weakly, grinding into him desperately.
He lets you do that for a few moments before pulling you back. You whimper with need, tears in your eyes. The Fang cups your face and chitters a small laugh. He holds up a finger. One? One what?
You knit your brow in confusion. He clicks his mandibles and drops his hand to let the slick drooling from you cover his fingers, pricking his claws so very gently at your ass. He carefully then wraps his hand around your dick and pumps it a few times.
This time when he moves, he’s leaning back and letting his thighs part.
You stare at him for a few seconds. He blinks at you expectantly. His length is getting stiff again.
You start to lower your head and he stops you with a hand and a word, shaking his head. He takes a shaky breath and trails his fingers along your dick before looking pleadingly at you.
You crawl forward over him. He lifts up his hips a little bit, already dripping.
He makes a chirping, cooing sound when you press your head at his hole. Despite his size, it’s almost tight. Then again, his length is quite thinner than a human dick, so it makes some sense. You can hardly breathe, staring at him.
He whines and reaches for you, pleading.
You push forward, and he trills, throwing his head back. His thighs part further. He’s cool and wet around you, and you feel dizzy at the pulsing of his walls.
You sink forward until you’re flush. You’re not as long as he is, but you’re thicker, and that seems to be satisfying him. His eyes are half-lidded, purr deep in his chest.
It’s a bit of a weird angle. You tap him, and he blinks with a chirp. You smile at that and push gently at his shoulder, urging him to lay back. When he does, you grab for his hips, and he braces his thighs around you, letting you lift him up so you’re on your knees.
You pull back until just your tip remains in him. When you thrust into him, he seizes and yelps, and you freeze, eyes wide.
He reaches for you, his words obviously pleas, shaking. He grinds his hips.
You didn’t hurt him.
You’re more careful with your next thrust, and he whimpers, begging with you. You wish you knew what he was begging for.
You try another harder thrust, and he clenches around you, his deep voice pitching up.
You start a slow, forceful pace, and he clicks and moans and purrs.
You pick up speed, enraptured by your affect on him. It’s utterly amazing.
Suddenly he freezes. You stop still, but he hasn’t come. You start to ask if he’s okay when he pounces forward.
You yelp in surprise as he pins you down, his hands careful not to let you slam into the ground. He presses his mouth to your hand, mimicking your kiss, before letting you go.
He settles above your hips and reaches for you.
You choke a little bit. He’s so huge.
He finds your dick and slowly sinks himself down.
You groan and grab his thighs.
He’s… surprisingly not as heavy as you expected him to be, when he’s flush at your hips. He trills, leaning forward. You’ve got a fantastic angle of his face now.
He grinds himself down, but you can’t wriggle in him like he could in you. He clicks, and then lifts himself up. He comes back down with a shuddering hiss.
You meet him halfway.
The Fang leans forward, bracing his upper hands on the floor, his lower ones roving over you as he rides you. He’s dripping slick down over your hips.
You clutch tighter at him.
You’re so close. You’re so painfully close.
He keens low.
“Guardian,” he purrs, and you gasp out.
The world goes blank as Light jolts through you.
You’ve never come so hard in all your lives. Nothing exists but him.
The ringing static in your ears eases enough to let you hear him babbling.
He tightens around you as you’re coming down and you jerk with a hitched yelp. He’s squeezing everything you have to give him. It’s not even close to what he’s spilling out, but he presses a hand to his stomach with a surprised sound regardless and shivers.
You’re warm, you realize.
He’s shocked at the heat of your come.
He slides off of you fairly quickly, though he’s still leaking come everywhere. You sit up and reach a hand to finish him through it, and he purrs, pulling you close. You kiss at his chest, the partitions of his plates.
When he finally stops coming, he slumps a little with a shaky breath. He leans into you, still purring, as you let him go.
You watch in fascination as his length sort of retreats back into his body and the armor plate of his pelvis shifts back into place to hide it.
He’s still holding you, murmuring softly in Eliksni. You… aren’t really sure what to do.
The Fang blinks and looks at you inquisitively for a moment. He taps his chest with one hand. “Phalriks,” he says.
Your eyes widen. You didn’t get his damn name!
“Phalriks,” you reply, and he nods. You tell him your name.
Phalriks rumbles in his chest and hauls you closer, into his lap. You let out a small, startled sound, and he nuzzles at you.
Light, you’re exhausted.
Phalriks tenses his arms around you and before you can react, he’s lifting you up, bridal style. You yelp and cling to his mantle. He laughs and strides across the cave to a corner where a heap of banners has been thrown. He settles down again.
He says something to you, soft, uncertain. You knit your brow and try to sit up, only to hiss and press a hand to your back. You definitely can’t walk.
Phalriks chitters and offers his arms.
Well. You’ve already spent the last who knew how long with him buried in you. The least you could do now was take a nap with him. You let him pull you close.
He purrs as he reaches for the banners and tugs a less tattered one over you, covering you like a blanket. He curls in the nest of banners, and you find he’s quite comfortable to cuddle with, for being a huge bug-like alien ten degrees colder than you.
You let yourself fall asleep to the deep rumbling purr.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
There’s soft talking.
You squeeze your eyes and pray your fireteam goes away, lets you sleep some more--
It’s not English.
You’re not in your bed.
You stay still.
It’s Fallen speak.
One voice rumbles beneath your head, and a claw cards through your hair. Phalriks is clinging possessively to you as you’re huddled under the banners. He’s speaking to another Fallen.
You feel something cold in you, unrelated to the Captain’s come still in you. Shame? Maybe? Fear?
Phalriks brushes a hand over your face, his words an affectionate coo.
There’s a response, an exclamation of disbelief, it seems. And a little exasperation, too.
Phalriks scoffs and tightens his hands on you.
Your nose itches.
You jerk with a sudden sneeze, and then freeze with your eyes wide.
Four other Fallen are in the cave staring at you.
Phalriks laughs and reaches for you.
You sink back down and try to cover your burning face with the banners. His touch is reassuring, though.
You have no idea what’s going to happen next.
The Fallen talk to each other as you peek out at them, letting Phalriks cuddle you close to him. You have no idea what they’re saying, but Phalriks is trailing his fingers lightly over you, like he’s not even really aware that he’s doing it.
Finally the other Fallen leave.
Phalriks murmurs your name as a question.
You press your hands to your face. This was not what you thought would happen if you ever did get the chance to bang the Fallen. You groan softly, grimacing.
His hands tighten and he nuzzles into your neck. “Stay?” he asks softly.
You blink at him. “Do you know English?” you ask in confusion.
Phalriks clicks his mandibles. He pinches a finger and thumb near each other. A little.
Oh, right. He’d been with the Awoken.
You eye him warily.
Phalriks sighs and shakes his head. “No kill,” he says.
“I don’t kill you, or you don’t kill me?”
He shrugs. “Yes?”
“I’m gonna be in sooo much shit for this.”
“Stay,” he repeats, softer. “No kill. You or me. Or…” he gestures in the direction the other Fallen had gone. “Not kill? Not… want…” He growls. “Not want more kill.”
“You don’t want to kill anymore?”
He shakes his head firmly. “Hide here,” he says.
“Oh,” you whisper. “You just… you just want to live here? And not fight?”
He pointed at the shield generators. “Not kill me. Me, not want kill, fight. Want live, yes.”
You press a hand to your forehead and lean into him. “So with the prison break… you just wanted out?”
He hisses. “Prison bad. Kill, fight. Not want. Kill-fight bad. Fallen bad. Not want Fallen bad. Great Machine not want bad Fallen. Live not kill-fight, live good, yes?”
You had come barging in here ready to blow the place up. You wince and kiss his hand. “Sorry for chucking bombs at you, Phalriks.”
He chitters and nuzzles you. “Guardian fight,” he says. “Not know good live.”
“And now I do?”
“And now you do.” He grins at his own English.