[ It's been a weird couple of months. After Eros, things had changed - between all four of them. Suddenly, it was somewhat easier to touch, to reach out, to comfort. To talk about things they'd never have talked about before. To sit side by side in the middle of the 'night' and share a bottle of Ganymede gin.
It's been easier, for Holden and Naomi to be more openly affectionate - with each other, but also with Amos and Alex. It's been easier, somewhat, to let things develop into more. Into feelings, maybe, into - Holden falling asleep on Amos's bunk one night, the two of them lying side by side and not touching. Into Amos making coffee for two, three, four, instead of making for one. Into this, now.
They're a little drunk, inhibitions lowered, and Amos wants to lean in, taste whiskey on Holden's stupidly fat, pouty lips. They're sitting on Holden's bunk, passing the bottle between the two of them, sharing stories and memories of Earth like they were good, laughing, a little breathless. Holden has lost his balance for a second, leaning closer, and Amos's eyes had gone dark.
But he can't. His eyes flick down to Holden's lips, and he licks his own.
( it's been a weird couple of months. ever since the destruction of the cant, ever since they got dragged into this mess with earth, mars, the opa and the protomolecule, holden's idea of just living his life one day at a time and not playing the game has gone out of the window. he wonders, sometimes, if it wouldn't be easier, if it wouldn't be better if he cared a little less about everyone and everything.
he can't shut it off, though. he can't help himself.
just like he can't help himself with his crew, with naomi and alex and with amos — amos, who knows that there are stains on his soul, who knows he hasn't always been a good man but who wants to be better. amos, who's let him sleep in his bunk sometimes when he's exhausted and too strung up, amos who's been making coffee and who's passing the bottle back to holden, looking at him like he wants so much.
amos, who won't let holden touch him. not like that, at least. )
Amos — ( he says and yeah, he's drunk, but that's not the reason his voice sounds as wrecked as it does. it's how dark amos' eyes have gone, the way he's been licking his lips. but even drunk, holden knows better than to reach out the way he wants, than to curl his fingers over the back of amos' head and pull him in for a kiss. )
[ Amos knows where this is going. Where this should be going, anyway. He's been in this position so many times before he can't even count them. Drinking enough for him not to feel like two hands are hundreds, pushing down onto his chest and locking him into place, and find a release in a physical romp that leaves him dissatisfied but is enough for the time being.
It's not what he wants with Holden. ]
What. [ It's not even a question, Amos's tone flat, his breaths short. It's an unfair word. ] I can't - I'm not fucking you, Jim.
[ This part has some feeling in it, like it pains Amos to even say it. Because he wants to. He just knows himself. ]
( god, holden wants amos so badly he can taste it at the back of his throat. he wants to swallow amos down, wants to touch, wants amos inside him, but he knows and so he swallows that want and the way he's half-hard just thinking about it. clears his throat. )
That's not what I had in mind.
( maybe this is a terrible idea. maybe it's because holden's drunk, maybe it's because he just acts on his terrible ideas sometimes, impulsive. either way: )
I want you to touch yourself. Can you do that? ( is that okay? he means to ask. )
[That's not what I had in mind, Holden says, which means he's had this in mind. Which means he's thought about this, this, getting Amos in bed. Maybe he's wanted Amos in his bed for - fuck knows how long. Amos lets out a noise, a little raw, at the back of his throat, but it's nothing compared to the sound he makes when Holden speaks again.
That sounds is accompanied by a shiver, moving up and down Amos's spine. ]
How much have you been thinking about this?
[ Amos licks his lips, turns his head to look at Holden. His hand drops to his groin, but he doesn't move further than that. ]
If you want me to do that, you're gonna have to keep talking, Jim.
( that little noise amos makes goes straight to holden's cock, leaving it twitching, filling out inside his jumpsuit, but it also makes something inside holden's chest constrict almost painfully. god, but he wants— a million things, but then amos makes another noise, asks him to keep talking, drops his hand and for a moment, holden's throat is painfully dry.
okay. okay, then. )
A lot. ( he admits after a moment, voice rough. ) I've been thinking about it a lot. Thinking about how much I want you to take off your shirt for me and push your jumpsuit down to your knees so I can look at you. So I can watch.
( so i can touch. but he can't touch. won't. so he doesn't say it, swallows the words and drags in a ragged breath instead. )
[ Amos runs his free hand over his mouth, his lips dry as he looks straight at Holden, the way his lips are parted, his eyes half-closed like they get when he's deep into something. ]
Gets you going, huh? To think about what I look like naked?
[ He says the words with an edge of derision to them, but he's pulling back from the wall for a moment, enough to pull his shirt over his head with one hand and a smooth tug. He flicks it off to Holden's floor, leaning back again. ]
( there's an edge of derision to amos' tone, but jim just looks back at him, steady, still. he's not above admitting that he's imagined this, that he likes the way amos looks, that it gets him hard to think about it. if amos needs to be snide about this as a defense mechanism, maybe they should stop, but the haze of alcohol means he doesn't quite realise as much.
instead, he lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding when amos takes off his shirt, letting his eyes linger on that well-defined chest, those arms, the abs. )
Now the jumpsuit. ( he says after a moment, a quiet order. )
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It's been easier, for Holden and Naomi to be more openly affectionate - with each other, but also with Amos and Alex. It's been easier, somewhat, to let things develop into more. Into feelings, maybe, into - Holden falling asleep on Amos's bunk one night, the two of them lying side by side and not touching. Into Amos making coffee for two, three, four, instead of making for one. Into this, now.
They're a little drunk, inhibitions lowered, and Amos wants to lean in, taste whiskey on Holden's stupidly fat, pouty lips. They're sitting on Holden's bunk, passing the bottle between the two of them, sharing stories and memories of Earth like they were good, laughing, a little breathless. Holden has lost his balance for a second, leaning closer, and Amos's eyes had gone dark.
But he can't. His eyes flick down to Holden's lips, and he licks his own.
He can't. ]
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he can't shut it off, though. he can't help himself.
just like he can't help himself with his crew, with naomi and alex and with amos — amos, who knows that there are stains on his soul, who knows he hasn't always been a good man but who wants to be better. amos, who's let him sleep in his bunk sometimes when he's exhausted and too strung up, amos who's been making coffee and who's passing the bottle back to holden, looking at him like he wants so much.
amos, who won't let holden touch him. not like that, at least. )
Amos — ( he says and yeah, he's drunk, but that's not the reason his voice sounds as wrecked as it does. it's how dark amos' eyes have gone, the way he's been licking his lips. but even drunk, holden knows better than to reach out the way he wants, than to curl his fingers over the back of amos' head and pull him in for a kiss. )
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It's not what he wants with Holden. ]
What. [ It's not even a question, Amos's tone flat, his breaths short. It's an unfair word. ] I can't - I'm not fucking you, Jim.
[ This part has some feeling in it, like it pains Amos to even say it. Because he wants to. He just knows himself. ]
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( god, holden wants amos so badly he can taste it at the back of his throat. he wants to swallow amos down, wants to touch, wants amos inside him, but he knows and so he swallows that want and the way he's half-hard just thinking about it. clears his throat. )
That's not what I had in mind.
( maybe this is a terrible idea. maybe it's because holden's drunk, maybe it's because he just acts on his terrible ideas sometimes, impulsive. either way: )
I want you to touch yourself. Can you do that? ( is that okay? he means to ask. )
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That sounds is accompanied by a shiver, moving up and down Amos's spine. ]
How much have you been thinking about this?
[ Amos licks his lips, turns his head to look at Holden. His hand drops to his groin, but he doesn't move further than that. ]
If you want me to do that, you're gonna have to keep talking, Jim.
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okay. okay, then. )
A lot. ( he admits after a moment, voice rough. ) I've been thinking about it a lot. Thinking about how much I want you to take off your shirt for me and push your jumpsuit down to your knees so I can look at you. So I can watch.
( so i can touch. but he can't touch. won't. so he doesn't say it, swallows the words and drags in a ragged breath instead. )
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Gets you going, huh? To think about what I look like naked?
[ He says the words with an edge of derision to them, but he's pulling back from the wall for a moment, enough to pull his shirt over his head with one hand and a smooth tug. He flicks it off to Holden's floor, leaning back again. ]
Look your fill.
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( there's an edge of derision to amos' tone, but jim just looks back at him, steady, still. he's not above admitting that he's imagined this, that he likes the way amos looks, that it gets him hard to think about it. if amos needs to be snide about this as a defense mechanism, maybe they should stop, but the haze of alcohol means he doesn't quite realise as much.
instead, he lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding when amos takes off his shirt, letting his eyes linger on that well-defined chest, those arms, the abs. )
Now the jumpsuit. ( he says after a moment, a quiet order. )