Burning Desire

Dark Paradise

Praxis kisses Ethos roughly on the lips. Skin meets skin in an explosion of pleasure as he lays back down on his bunk and has Ethos straddle his waist.

"You know," Praxis pulls away, "No one has ever wanted me as more than just a good fuck."

Ethos smiles and giggles softly as his soft fingers brush Praxis's cheeks.

"I was never really after that." He says as Praxis removes his shirt. Ethos peels off his as well. "I wanted you more as a friend. But now..."

Their erections rut against each other and Praxis groans.

Ethos holds in a whine, and his pupils expand. "I feel like my life is complete." He whispers.

Praxis stills his movements and looks up at Ethos.

"Am I that important to you?" He asks. Ethos looks in his eye, then snakes a hand up, and removes the eyepatch slowly. There is a huge cut, forcing his eye shut. The skin around it is pink and scarred. Ethos kisses the hard skin, and hugs Praxis.

"I'm not Abel," Ethos says. "I know that, and I know you're never going to get over him but... Maybe, you could come to love a little bit, or even much as I love you,"

Praxis felt an aching in his chest, every beat his heart gave was a mistake. Ethos trying to speak with him, Ethos trying to be a better navigator because it's the only thing he can think of. Never did Ethos think there was something wrong with Praxis. Never did he think Praxis was the one who needed to change.

He swallows thickly, a hand going cup the back of Ethos's head.

"I'm...." He clears his throat. "Sorry,"

He pulls him into a soft kiss. Hesitant at first, lips brushing for a mere second before pulling away and touching again. Flashes of light dance in their closed eyes as they feel one another, comfort, pain, longing.

Finally, Praxis drags his hands down Ethos's back, feeling the skin, the soft edges. He grabs at Ethos's hips, thick meat, lovely rippling skin.

Ethos jerks at his touches, shoulders drawing up. "I know I'm... Also not as skinny as Abel...."

Praxis cocks his head. "How much you weight isn't going to determine how much I love you," He says. Ethos wraps his arms around himself, covering the fold in his stomach.

Praxis rolls his hips again, getting a shudder and a soft moan from Ethos.

"Don't be shy," Praxis whispers. "I might be an asshole, but I'm not that big of one,"

His hands leave his waist and pry apart Ethos's hands. The soft, silver belly of him has a small happy trail leading down to his pants. The skin is soft, tender. Ethos's cheeks are so red, his eyes averted.

Praxis eventually gets Ethos to look up at him, and it's when his hands are working to take off his shoes.

Ethos helps him.

"I ruin everything don't I," He murmurs. "Sorry, this must be weird for you now,"

Praxis keeps his eye neutral. "It's not," He replies. "I'm concerned. My own navigator needs care too. It's not like I'm the only one in the ship."

He remembers his old ship, his old navigator, and when Ethos's shoes are off, his hands are trembling. "I know what it's like to be alone in there," His voice wavers.