Altair blinked at him a moment before he grinned a big toothy grin and laughed. Malik felt himself smiling as well and Altair nuzzled him. Malik wrapped his arm around him and pressed his face into his shoulder as if that could blot out all of the emotions that were rising up his throat and into his eyes. But if there was one thing he wasn’t going to do was cry before sex. That was unacceptable and uncalled for and would probably freak Altair out.
This time when Altair pressed his shirt up he didn’t let himself flinch, didn’t try to twist away. He just let Altair slowly peel his shirt off and throw it somewhere else. When he was done Malik felt uncomfortably exposed and his heart hammered furiously in his chest, he was sure Altair could hear it it was so loud. Altair didn’t say anything even as Malik watched his eyes trace their way along his amputated arm and the mass of scar tissue along his left side from the IED shrapnel. “You know how girls have a thing for scars?” Altair suddenly asked.
“Uh… I guess,” Malik said, taken by surprise. He didn’t really worry about what girls did or didn’t like, since he wasn’t interested in them, though he heard his friends talking about them. Lots of girls dug scars apparently.
Altair’s mouth turned wicked, “I do too,” and he leaned down. But instead of going for Malik’s mouth he pressed his lips to the top part of the scarring, which started at the top of Malik’s shoulder. After the explosion the shrapnel had lacerated most of Malik’s arm and found the weak parts of his body armor, effectively mutilating his left side and leaving him with such a useless lower arm that there was no way to save it. Part of it had been skin graphed, to reduce the scarring, but there was still pale, dead, tissue along his flank marking out the worst of the blast. He felt his breath hitch when Altair pressed his lips to his healed over skin, brushing his lips down the length of the remainder of his arm gently. Altair cooed out gentle shushes against his skin, pressing brief kisses to the scar riddled skin between them.
A long shutter rolled down Malik’s entire body when Altair’s lips slid back up what was left of his arm, skating over skin, and then down his chest. He caught one of Malik’s nipples in his teeth and Malik grunted, arching upwards slightly, the sudden change making his head spin. Like everything Altair did he always left Malik slightly unsteady, slightly off kilter, like he could fall at any moment, though he knew Altair would always be there to catch him. He groaned when Altair gave another tug at his nipple before simply biting down onto skin, not hard, but enough to leave a faint indentation of teeth on his breast. He swiped his tongue over the bite mark before sliding down lower and Malik pushed himself up a little to see better as Altair simply slid off the bed and onto his knees.
He undid Malik’s pants, and Malik lifted his hips up a little so that in two tugs Altair had them off and on the floor. He ignored Malik’s erection, which was back to it’s former self after that brief moment of self-consciousness, and kissed his way down Malik’s thigh, then back up the other. He hummed and propped his chin on Malik’s hips and damnit so close to the tent in Malik’s boxers it was practically criminal. “I think it will take me a long time to memorize all your perfect imperfections Malik,” he said with a little smirk. It twisted into a smile as he said, “Good thing I’ll have all the time I need to learn it,” and he turned his head to kiss Malik’s erection through the thin cotton of his boxers. Malik groaned in annoyance and want.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (89/?)
This time when Altair pressed his shirt up he didn’t let himself flinch, didn’t try to twist away. He just let Altair slowly peel his shirt off and throw it somewhere else. When he was done Malik felt uncomfortably exposed and his heart hammered furiously in his chest, he was sure Altair could hear it it was so loud. Altair didn’t say anything even as Malik watched his eyes trace their way along his amputated arm and the mass of scar tissue along his left side from the IED shrapnel. “You know how girls have a thing for scars?” Altair suddenly asked.
“Uh… I guess,” Malik said, taken by surprise. He didn’t really worry about what girls did or didn’t like, since he wasn’t interested in them, though he heard his friends talking about them. Lots of girls dug scars apparently.
Altair’s mouth turned wicked, “I do too,” and he leaned down. But instead of going for Malik’s mouth he pressed his lips to the top part of the scarring, which started at the top of Malik’s shoulder. After the explosion the shrapnel had lacerated most of Malik’s arm and found the weak parts of his body armor, effectively mutilating his left side and leaving him with such a useless lower arm that there was no way to save it. Part of it had been skin graphed, to reduce the scarring, but there was still pale, dead, tissue along his flank marking out the worst of the blast. He felt his breath hitch when Altair pressed his lips to his healed over skin, brushing his lips down the length of the remainder of his arm gently. Altair cooed out gentle shushes against his skin, pressing brief kisses to the scar riddled skin between them.
A long shutter rolled down Malik’s entire body when Altair’s lips slid back up what was left of his arm, skating over skin, and then down his chest. He caught one of Malik’s nipples in his teeth and Malik grunted, arching upwards slightly, the sudden change making his head spin. Like everything Altair did he always left Malik slightly unsteady, slightly off kilter, like he could fall at any moment, though he knew Altair would always be there to catch him. He groaned when Altair gave another tug at his nipple before simply biting down onto skin, not hard, but enough to leave a faint indentation of teeth on his breast. He swiped his tongue over the bite mark before sliding down lower and Malik pushed himself up a little to see better as Altair simply slid off the bed and onto his knees.
He undid Malik’s pants, and Malik lifted his hips up a little so that in two tugs Altair had them off and on the floor. He ignored Malik’s erection, which was back to it’s former self after that brief moment of self-consciousness, and kissed his way down Malik’s thigh, then back up the other. He hummed and propped his chin on Malik’s hips and damnit so close to the tent in Malik’s boxers it was practically criminal. “I think it will take me a long time to memorize all your perfect imperfections Malik,” he said with a little smirk. It twisted into a smile as he said, “Good thing I’ll have all the time I need to learn it,” and he turned his head to kiss Malik’s erection through the thin cotton of his boxers. Malik groaned in annoyance and want.