( those would be holden's words more than amos'. prax realises they used him, in the beginning— but after what he's seen happen since the destruction of ganymede, he's not sure that means they owe him.
maybe it does. he's still grateful. )
Thank you, Amos.
( his eyes are a little wet. and maybe it's just that today has been such a rollercoaster of emotions, maybe this is a stupid thing, maybe he shouldn't — but he still leans in and presses his lips to amos'. )
[ Amos freezes. He doesn't exactly mean to, it's just - this is the last thing he expected. It feels like he's just been punched in the gut, only in a good way, which is even less something he could predict would happen.
This - this kind of affection doesn't happen to him. He can't remember ever kissing someone entirely willingly, and here is Prax, with his newfound smiles and his depths of gratefulness that Amos doesn't feel like he deserves, not for just doing the right thing. Here is Prax, kissing him, and Amos can't breathe.
It must take seconds for him to start kissing back, but he finally does, eyes still open as he does, something experimental in the way he pushes back, in the way he curls fingers around Prax's wrist, how he presses up, just a fraction. ]
( amos freezes long enough that prax is coming to regret his action, that he's beginning to pull back. he's never seen amos freeze — amos is always so sure of his actions and of himself — and he doesn't know what to make of the fact that he's the cause for it now.
the sinking feeling in his gut is half regret and half guilty, he realises, but before he can break the kiss entirely and apologise, amos starts kissing him back. pressing up, closer. curling his fingers around prax's wrist. the sinking feeling turns into something swooping. )
[ Amos, once he realizes what's happening, once his brain kicks back into gear, does the only thing he knows how to do in a moment like this: he shifts back, and pulls Prax in. The angle is uncomfortable for both of them, right now, with Prax bending down in front of him, and it would be much, much easier to just have him over Amos's lap.
He does it with a strange, slightly detached feeling. The same thing that always takes over when he finds himself in situations involving physical intimacy. His thoughts hover, just a few inches from his head, like it's not really him in the situation, like it's not him pushing into Prax's hands and wordlessly asking for more.
It's unfair on Prax. He's not another John, someone that's paying for Amos's body, since they could never get his affection. Prax has his trust, and his affection in a way no one he's ever touched like this has before. He can't stay detached.
He can't - he pulls back from the kiss suddenly, breathing hard as he looks at Prax, his voice softer than he wants it to be when he speaks next. ]
( what is he doing? prax replies with the first thing that comes to mind, which is - ) Kissing you. ( there's no sass in the response, it's just a quiet fact. he swallows, leaning back a little from amos because amos seems to be —
( it may have been what prompted this now, but it isn't why prax is doing it. why he wants to do it. that's all amos — his big arms, the way his eyes soften a little and come more alive when he looks at prax, the strength of him both physically and figuratively. figuratively most of all. )
[ It's a painfully honest, almost brutal question, because Amos needs to know. He needs to be sure why. He needs Prax's certainty, to feel it himself. It matters too much. Prax matters too much. ]
( no, that's not quite right, is it? he feels like he needs amos. he does need amos, but he doesn't need this from amos. if amos says no, that's okay. even if the possibility brings a sinking feeling to prax's stomach, it's okay. )
[ He almost says it as a question, but then inflects it as a statement. Prax said it, and Amos is not going to disrespect him by arguing his words. If he says it, then that's what it is.
Amos swallows hard, then nods. ]
Okay.
[ And then Amos pulls Prax to him, to sit by his side of over his lap, whatever he feels like doing. ]
[ Amos takes a moment to reply, but when he does, it's with feeling. ]
Fuck yes I want to, Doc. It's - I don't feel like I should, because I don't want to... I don't want to ruin you. But fuck, I've never wanted anything that much. Or anyone.
( prax lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been feeling and it's only after amos has answered that he relaxes against amos, actually straddling amos instead of hovering awkwardly, close where amos has pulled him in but not quite touching.
now, with permission, he's not sure he'll know how to stop touching. amos' face is first, fingertips closely running over cheekbones, touching amos' beard. )
Okay. ( he echoes amos and leans in to kiss him again, heart beating wildly. )
[ There's nothing to say. Nothing he can say, when Prax lowers himself to sit on his lap, when he touches Amos like this, delicate and fervent and wanting, and Amos just looks, drinks in the expression on Prax's face, amazed, his heart beating too hard in his chest.
When Prax leans in for a kiss, Amos meets him halfway, hands closing around fistfuls of Prax's jumpsuit, pulling him as close as possible, tipping his chin up to kiss Prax hard, not quite managing to stay delicate about it. ]
[ amos meets him halfway and it's everything prax hadn't let himself want, hadn't let himself imagine or even think about. want isn't far from the surface, urgent and needy, and it bubbles up when amos deepens the kiss, turns it into something harder that prax finds himself moaning into. ]
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maybe it does. he's still grateful. )
Thank you, Amos.
( his eyes are a little wet. and maybe it's just that today has been such a rollercoaster of emotions, maybe this is a stupid thing, maybe he shouldn't — but he still leans in and presses his lips to amos'. )
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This - this kind of affection doesn't happen to him. He can't remember ever kissing someone entirely willingly, and here is Prax, with his newfound smiles and his depths of gratefulness that Amos doesn't feel like he deserves, not for just doing the right thing. Here is Prax, kissing him, and Amos can't breathe.
It must take seconds for him to start kissing back, but he finally does, eyes still open as he does, something experimental in the way he pushes back, in the way he curls fingers around Prax's wrist, how he presses up, just a fraction. ]
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the sinking feeling in his gut is half regret and half guilty, he realises, but before he can break the kiss entirely and apologise, amos starts kissing him back. pressing up, closer. curling his fingers around prax's wrist. the sinking feeling turns into something swooping. )
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He does it with a strange, slightly detached feeling. The same thing that always takes over when he finds himself in situations involving physical intimacy. His thoughts hover, just a few inches from his head, like it's not really him in the situation, like it's not him pushing into Prax's hands and wordlessly asking for more.
It's unfair on Prax. He's not another John, someone that's paying for Amos's body, since they could never get his affection. Prax has his trust, and his affection in a way no one he's ever touched like this has before. He can't stay detached.
He can't - he pulls back from the kiss suddenly, breathing hard as he looks at Prax, his voice softer than he wants it to be when he speaks next. ]
What are you doing?
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amos doesn't seem to be okay. )
I, we can stop.
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[ Amos takes a short breath, feeling a shiver running down his spine. ]
You just don't have to. If you think you owe me, or something. You don't have to.
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( it may have been what prompted this now, but it isn't why prax is doing it. why he wants to do it. that's all amos — his big arms, the way his eyes soften a little and come more alive when he looks at prax, the strength of him both physically and figuratively. figuratively most of all. )
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[ It's a painfully honest, almost brutal question, because Amos needs to know. He needs to be sure why. He needs Prax's certainty, to feel it himself. It matters too much. Prax matters too much. ]
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( no, that's not quite right, is it? he feels like he needs amos. he does need amos, but he doesn't need this from amos. if amos says no, that's okay. even if the possibility brings a sinking feeling to prax's stomach, it's okay. )
Because I want to. Because I like you.
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[ He almost says it as a question, but then inflects it as a statement. Prax said it, and Amos is not going to disrespect him by arguing his words. If he says it, then that's what it is.
Amos swallows hard, then nods. ]
Okay.
[ And then Amos pulls Prax to him, to sit by his side of over his lap, whatever he feels like doing. ]
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( amos is pulling prax to him, but he doesn't look his usual certain self and it makes something inside prax's chest clench painfully with worry. )
Do you want to?
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Fuck yes I want to, Doc. It's - I don't feel like I should, because I don't want to... I don't want to ruin you. But fuck, I've never wanted anything that much. Or anyone.
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now, with permission, he's not sure he'll know how to stop touching. amos' face is first, fingertips closely running over cheekbones, touching amos' beard. )
Okay. ( he echoes amos and leans in to kiss him again, heart beating wildly. )
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When Prax leans in for a kiss, Amos meets him halfway, hands closing around fistfuls of Prax's jumpsuit, pulling him as close as possible, tipping his chin up to kiss Prax hard, not quite managing to stay delicate about it. ]
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