Warframe - [The Hunters and the Prime(s)] - Within an empty hanger
PART OF THE SERIES: The Hunter and the Prime(s)
After running a stress test, all Stalker and his partner can do is wait, until they start getting frisky and the prime forgets something important.
Contents | Non-canon biology, Intimate partners, grinding, power bottom, body worship, riding, vaginal
Length | 5,084w
A faint exclamation slips as metal strikes metal, the sharp noise resonating through the open-air hanger and carrying through the emptiness of their Orokin vessel. Silence eventually takes hold once more, folding around them and their scouting vessel that takes up most of small hanger’s floor. Machinery lies scattered around them, items they scavenged from other ships and miscellaneous scrap parts. Beneath their ship one scoots off the power station he was sat one – setting a small device on top of the cool generator block as he picks up the piece of fallen metal.
It’s a piece of housing, a long metal plate that was used to conceal important machinery from weathering. Earlier, he saw it laid on the lift, and he looks up. His partner is leaning over the edge of the vertical lift. “Need this?” he asks, holding the piece up for the hunter a few feet above him.
“Yeah, just fell off the platform,” Stalker replies, picking through a toolbox hanging off the side of the raised platform’s rails. “Was trying to reach a fastener and guess it got pushed off,” he sighs, ducking down before reaching back into the ship’s inner core. Below him, the prime just nods, setting the piece against the raised lift before he returns to the generator block and his small tablet pad.
Wires lead out of it and into a port far above him, tapping him directly into the system’s readings as his partner tinkers with the void mask generator. He crawls himself back up onto the block, tapping through the hundreds of data points as he waits for Stalker to finish tightening an amplifier to their aged machinery. At only a couple hundred years old, it still works like a charm. Mostly. There’s still the wire array in the circuitry compartment the prime needs to rewire – it still sits as a mess for however long he can remember. It’s always just out of sight.
Above him, Stalker pulls out from the vessel’s undercarriage. “How’s the amplifier running now?”
The excalibur taps through to the associated measurements, pressing a stress test on the cloaking system that brings it to pulsate above them. “It’s running warm, at least. Not giving me a max reading yet on the radius.” He calls back, glancing up as the hunter leaves the lift with one swift motion. Stalker lands beside him, leaning over to the side to view the transparent screen from the frontward face. The prime leans it over to him. “Might need to let it warm up a bit first,” and he looks up to where the void mask engine revs into the open area. Usually, it’d run contained, but they aren’t one for protocols.
There’s no one around to enforce them.
“Hm, probably,” Stalker sighs, “but once it’s up, shouldn’t be too long with the enhancement from the other day.” He elbows himself up from the generator block, walking over to look into the open machinery far above him.
“Yep, already got it at the ninth interval, so should see results –“ and before he can smarm the machinery blooms from the opening, enveloping the ship in a light sheen. “And there we go,” he huffs, looking over at the cobbled together machinery on the far end of the hanger. Bright lights once brilliant yellow dull to nothing, other instruments flashing their lights to a lost signal. “Looks like it’s working,” he grins, tapping over to the readings. “And looks like it’s holding for now.” Looking over, he can see Stalker staring at the opening.
“It needs some work,” the hunter grunts. Half blinded by the light, he climbs back up to the machinery, despite his partner’s protests. “A larger one won’t fit but bringing the amplifier closer might run the charge up by a second at least.” He doesn’t reach inside, only eyeballing it from where he stands.
“Haven’t you spent long enough just trying to get that amp to even fit?” The prime calls back, setting the device down beside him.
In resignation, Stalker groans. “Yeah.”
“It’s good for now,” the prime walks around the lift, staring up at the glowing opening. “Let’s let it warm up, see how long it holds before we make any more adjustments.” And as he makes a quick glance away, he barely sees as the hunter crawls back over the side railing and angles to land on top of him.
He catches the other man, arms fastening around legs and waist in a swift swing that lands Stalker onto his back – but the surprise attack wasn’t in vain. Stalker’s hands are gripped around the back of the prime’s crown, thumbs against the scratched crescent and beneath a grinning throat. “Gotcha,” Stalker sneers, following the prime as he moves back to a crouch. “Now, how are we going to spend our time waiting on it then,” he grins over their intimate connection, hands faltering as he moves to rise back onto his feet.
“Well,” the prime starts, extending a hand Stalker gladly takes. “How about a round around the ship,” he sneers, “or a bit of a tussle, to get us wound up?” He moves as Stalker grips around his thigh, shifting his leg into the gentle pull as the hunter presses against him.
“Been a while since we wrestled,” Stalker nips at the prime’s sensory chin, “I wonder who will end up on top.”
“Surely, it’ll be me,” the prime teases, catching his leg around Stalker’s grip and yanks against the other’s shin. The attempt to put the hunter off balance is bolstered by a shoulder shove, caught by two hands that moves from legs to waist, twisting the prime over as they both roll onto the ground. Their strengths are matched one to one, grappling around limb and body as they try to force each other into a pin against the floor. The prime seems to get the upper hand, coiling himself around to grapple Stalker into a firm strangle-hold – but the hunter manages to roll the prime off of him, coiling the prime’s arm behind his back and straddles the prime’s legs beneath him.
The short tussle leaves them panting, vents splitting to increase their breathing capabilities as they linger in the low light. Beneath Stalker, the prime coos as he cranes his head over his shoulder, “well, I guess I was wrong.”
“It’s going to be a while before the shield starts to fizzle out,” Stalker sighs, releasing his partner’s arm and moving to guide him back to his feet in turn. “Did you make sure the time table recorder was on?”
The prime thanks him with the teasing trail of his forefinger, stroking the soft flesh at the side of Stalker’s chest. “It should be, I coded it to record in 60 terra minute intervals.” He’s wandering back to the quiet generator and the tablet device.
Stalker’s fingers grip around from behind the prime, hands cupping over the breathing cyan flesh as his chin buries between neck and shoulder – pulling the prime back against him. “You haven’t changed that thing for years, remember?” He chuffs, drawing a sighed grunt from the prime as his fingers burrow through the sensitive cyan. The lighter colored form arches back against him, a hand hooking over his own.
“Yeah, but I got it checked out a month or so back – for sure this time,” the prime grins, butting Stalker’s head off his shoulder, yielding to the hands feeling along his sides as he tries to more forward while also remaining close – it’s a hard position to maintain.
Stalker grins against their connection, arms holding the prime firm. “Are you positive? Because you don’t seem sure of it right now.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” the prime grins, grabbing the hunter’s loose hand and walking backwards to the device, “why don’t I just check on it then,” he sneers. He waltz his way out of Stalker’s grasp, picking up the device as Stalker soon joins him, peering over the device.
“You forgot to turn it on,” Stalker states the obvious, to an annoyed grunt from the prime at his side.
As his partner returns to the device, the hunter’s hands trail over again, leaning against the prime’s shoulder as he watches him work. Nimble fingers are quick to resolve the nonissue recorder, tapping at the transparent screen as dark hands move over shoulder juts and down against glowing blue. “Just, give me a minute,” he sighs, arching his chest into the stroking digits. As he forces himself to concentrate on getting the recorder synced to the ship’s systems his breathing goes soft, a verbal response to the hunter’s touches as he merges the sensors for the void mask and the external receptions.
And even once he’s finished his hands remain on the tablet device, the hunter’s hands taking his concentration, head tilting back as the dark fingers cup against his sensitive cyan. “I don’t suppose I should be ‘disciplined’ for my failure to follow procedure,” he teases, tucking the device up in the landing gear housing above them. The hands at his sides linger in place, gently kneading out sighs from a grinning maw as the hunter pushes him against the generator block. They’re face to face now, the prime grinding back with a let settled between dark thighs. “But, would you suppose, what should be my ‘punishment’?” he purrs back.
“Maybe I should just let you tend to yourself,” Stalker rumbles in a false authoritative tease, his voice drawn deep with reverbs as his hands move from the other’s vents to hips. “Can’t believe you forgot to set the manual recorder,” he snorts, his voice drawn light before returning to reverbed taunts. “Maybe, if you eat me out I’ll forgive you,” he grins against their sensory connection, transferring phantom draws of teeth against the prime’s own. His partner yields against him, and between them the prime’s leg rubs up against Stalker’s crotch. It draws a small sound from him – and in return Stalker presses his fingers against a deep pleasure hidden among the prime’s soft flesh.
“Oooh,” the prime sighs, his own fingers dancing over Stalker’s sides. He openly grins, his maw against Stalker’s rippled helm. “Oh no, what a ‘horrible’ punishment,” he smarms, coaxing Stalker to revers their roles, hands hoisting Stalker’s rear up as dark palms grip over his face. There’s a chuckle from both of them, as Stalker moves back, the prime cradling himself between legs hitching around his body – holding him captive. “What did I do to deserve such a horrible fate.”
Stalker rocks himself against the prime’s pelvis, feeling himself split as a line of cerise blooms at the seam in his groin. “Maybe if you played more attention to what you were doing, you wouldn’t be ‘punished’,” he starts in a commanding tone, “but I guess that can’t be helped. What with me teasing you like this; I know its hard to resist temptation.” He coos, leaning back as thumbs brush over his cerise vents. “It’s what you just deserve, worshipping me,” he sneers over their connection, feeling their intimate link surge from the prime’s probing electric request. This is all for him, and Stalker damn well knows it.
The prime indulges Stalker in his fantasy, maw kissing down a stretched neck and over the breathing vents at the other’s side. In every breath he draws his plated face against them, drawing frilled cerise barely into his mouth as tentacle tongue combine into a single entity. It slides against the dim glowing flesh, tending the one at Stalker’s other side with his wandering hand. His right has already drawn back, grasping over Stalker’s skin and thigh jut and holding the raised limb firmly against his side. His warm mouth presses against the breathing vents, coaxing grinning sighs from the hunter as he indulges.
And Stalker adores it.
“You know how to get me all riled up, don’t you,” the prime purrs as he begins to move down, hands coiling against the dark thighs crawling up over his shoulders.
“You could say I excel at it,” the hunter grins, watching as the prime settles himself between his legs, hovering over it with open coils of a tentacle conglomerate. But, in restraint, they only trail over inner thighs, running the skin wet with saliva.
The prime’s breath breathes over cerise flesh, making the hunter shuffle with a hushed grunt. “I’m not exactly aroused,” he starts, his mouth cupping against Stalker’s crotch, “yet,” he breathes, kissing the lips before dragging the swirling tentacles against his partner’s parts.
“Well, guess you should start working on that then,” Stalker teases, his hand dancing over the prime’s crown do guide it down against his mound. “And I know how much you like eating me out.” His voice rumbles with a sense of pride, reverbing as a breath is forced through his lungs as his clit is taken into his partner’s mouth. Over a nonverbal link, the prime transmits messages of tempting pleasures, sucking the prehensile clit with a tentacle furls inside his mouth. “If you serve me well,” he teases, fingers pressing the prime’s head towards his lips, “maybe I’ll consider a courtesy ride.”
Against the hunter’s lips the prime breathes, kissing the lips as a dark hand joins to hold the cerise open in yearning desire. Stalker holds himself open for the prime’s mouth, holding himself up in a sitting posture as a tentacle tongue coils against his vulva and clit, cupping around his lips in pulsation motions. Bright hands cup around behind dark thigh juts, pushing thighs back as the prime moves forward; his mouth brushes against open lips, tongue coaxing and drawing them saturated with his saliva. There’s a rumble from the prime, mouth breathing directly at the hunter’s cerise as he mouths over it again, grinning.
Stalker watches as the prime ravages his lips, letting sounds slip as the motions are drawn into a hungry assault, tentacle tongues rasping and stroking, taking the clasping clit into his mouth to give it a gentle sucking that makes the hunter shutter. “Speak for me,” he sighs, “tell me how good I taste,” he groans, legs pulling the prime down against him, barely more so than the prime is already buried in his crotch. “Mnh, yeah,” slips, hands gripping at the generator he sits perched upon, “how much you like my cunt,” he rumbles, trying to spread himself further for the mouth between his thighs.
A swarming tentacle tongue thrusts between Stalker’s lips, coating and stroking as he takes the cerise clit into his mouth again. “You taste wonderful,” he purrs, half muffled by his kissing lips, “I could eat you out forever,” he draws, trailing tentacle tongues cupping the outer lips, cradling them as he kisses again, purring.
“I couldn’t hear you,” Stalker rumbles, a hand cupping the prime’s head upwards. The tentacle tongues curl against his wrist. “Say it again, you degrade,” he says with a sensory purr, intermingling himself with the prime’s open connection. He transmits a sense of stroking over a rising ache, cupping the girth and stroking it down. The prime sinks against it, relieving pressure building from a restrained seam.
“I would eat you out forever, as if it was the last thing in existence,” he rumbles, his hand replacing his misplaced mouth as he rises to stand, leaning over Stalker. “I love drawing those noises from you, the small cries for more especially,” he sneers, his stomach pressing up against Stalker’s crotch.
“Considering you eat fuck all else,” Stalker grins, rising a leg up to press a teasing push away, “that wouldn’t surprise me.” He draws a hand against his crotch, feeling over his soaked lips, coaxing a groan out through his own lungs as the prime returns downwards, fully kissing the sensitive flesh. “Ooh yeah, kiss me more.” He presses himself down against the drawn touches, settling again in the prime’s hands as they barely lift him from the generator.
Over and over the prime repeats his ravaging attention, stroking, kissing, and sucking, tongues thrusting against a sensitive vulva that draws gasps from his partner.
Out of the prime’s view, Stalker’s hands try to affirm their hold on the generator – but its getting harder for him to keep stable. “Mmh,” he grunts, legs squeezing to force the prime’s mouth from his sensitivity. “You’ve done your job,” his voice reverbs with a huff, drawing his thighs closed, “now get on the floor.”
Half lit by the distant void, the tentacle tongues lip off any lingering moisture from the prime’s bright maw. “Why certainly,” he purrs Stalker’s chosen name, hands moving over thigh juts to coax Stalker down with him. From standing they go near prone, with Stalker knelt around the prime’s thighs and hand already stroking the girth semihard. The prime leans back as the hunter takes control of the situation, willing to let the hunter do whatever he wish, communicating over their mental link their position plans.
Stalker uses some of the moisture between his thighs to jerk the prime firm, jerking it relentlessly to the rhythm the prime declares. A mutual pleasure as the prime watches from his rear lean, his bright member squeezed by a dark hand that draws him closer to match the hunter’s state of arousal. Groans bleed through his throat and vents, the cyan at his sides unfurling as the hand jerks him. And, thankfully sooner than later, Stalker presses his lips against the prime’s erection, rocking against it much to the prime’s amusement. “Gonna get me off this way, aren’t ya?” he teases, his own motions rolling as their wet flesh make sounds.
Through their connection the hunter grins, bucking against the prime’s underside.
“Maybe, maybe not,” he breathes, grunting as he grabs the prime’s bent legs, holding himself steady as he coaxes deep groans from the prime laid beneath him. His clasper clit brushes over head and base, motions that makes the girth twitch against his lips. “You make such beautiful noises yourself,” a naming purr, “can’t wait to hear more of them.” And he transmits a variant of their positions; where he’s still on top, the prime still on the bottom and writhing as Stalker thrusts into him again and again. Where Stalker holds the dominance and legs over his hips yearning him close.
“Oh, you wanna fuck me nice and hard too?” The prime purrs, already receptive to the idea of being on the receiving end – considering just how much he adores the hunter’s ridged member. His question is briefly answered by a nod; and he draws a hand between them as Stalker moves to a hovering kneel. A confirmation of coming penetration, a silent approval as they make their own motions to prep for the meeting of flesh. The prime holds his erection steady and taps it upwards as Stalker holds his lips spread – holding himself open as the prime angles himself inside.
When they meet their noises mix, the prime pulling himself up as Stalker begins to rock around him, squeezing the erection firmly inside him in long drawn bucks. His groans hums as he revels in the prime’s filling girth, groaning openly as a maw nips against his chin and neck, a hand stroking against his cerise vent. Breaths are exchange as their bodies begin to speak for them, dripping impassioned as their hands roam over bodies in the intimate embrace. Over their well-maintained connection they revel in their motions, grinding and bucking as they match the other’s actions, drawn closer with every roll of hips, every upward thrust and meeting clench.
Breathing heaves as they rise theirselves closer, bright jaws meeting the base of a dark neck, kissing as Stalker bucks them towards their merging peaks. Movements are relentless, only breaking to give them space to inhale, exchanging longing looks as their bodies continue without thought. Words run exchanged, all in orokin, and no matter how small in the thralls of their romantic declarations.
Back and forth Stalker rolls, pushing the prime down to the floor. His hands grip as he bucks, words mumbling in reverbs.
The prime supports Stalker’s furthering lean, maw a gap with groans as his head draws back, scratching at the floor. Hands gripping firm, holding tight as his body follows his need for release, groaning as Stalker whimpers above him.
Arms cradle the hunter as he buckles down, bucking hard against the prime’s own swift thrusts.
Between them they exchange groaned names and expletives, sinking against their meeting flesh, where spurts fill the other, slapped through tight clenches.
They revel in the afterglow, Stalker pushing himself up back to a lean.
Beneath him, the prime breathes slowly, his vents furling in every inhale as his hands move over Stalker’s skin, to a rippled face he pulls down to kiss physically and sensory. “You were the loudest,” the prime teases, following as Stalker moves himself into a sit. Together they tremble as Stalker squeezes his partner out, taking it into his palm and gently strokes.
Though it isn’t verbal, they draw up their next motions – the prime on the bottom, Stalker on top, sunken inside cyan.
“I’ll make you louder next time,” Stalker rumbles, fingers trailing down a cum covered member to a sensitive clit below the base. “It’ll feel much better if you withdraw your dick,” he purrs, hand running it between index and thumb. “Nothing but me thrusting inside you, my rippled head against your walls,” the hunter grins, his other hand drawing down to his groin, petting out his own erection with the mess he and his partner have made.
“Oh, I bet,” the prime sighs, watching as his member is taken in by yielding strokes. “Being filled up, taken up to the brim. How divine,” he breathes, reverting his inners to reduce to only his awaiting mound – where Stalker’s hand has already made its mark. It slatters it with their mingling fluids, digits coiling and stroking downwards between glowing cyan.
“It’s even better when you’re the one in control,” the hunter rumbles, reaching back between his thighs where his own erection begins to twitch, barely ready for the second-round romp. He shuffles himself forward, bright legs cradling his own as his hand returns to the prime’s flesh.
Small noises drip from the prime as fingers flex and spread inside him, stroking down his clit with the mingle of his spunk and Stalker’s lubrication. He lies back against the ground, hands gripping and kneading against his palms as he watches the hunter work him wet. “I love this view,” he coos, spreading himself for the thrusting fingers, eyeing the aroused twitching above his glowing flesh. “Can’t wait to feel you inside me again,” he breathes, legs drawing Stalker close.
“Really that needy, aren’t you?” the hunter rumbles, forcing his hand firm against the prime’s crotch, shuffling as a low groan leaves the prime – watching vents furl in yearning breaths.
“Maybe I am,” the other coos, giving in to let his hand join Stalker’s between his thighs. Bright fingers stroke out around the cyan lips as the hunter thrusts his fingers against a sensitive G, coaxing another groan from the prime’s maw. His mouth hangs open as Stalker’s hand retreats, stroking over his glowing clit and two fingers holding himself open as the hunter tends to himself.
He drags fluid up around his ridged member, jerking it as he moves down to lean – one supported as the prime kisses him over the connection. Phantom mouths meet as their faces rub, a lax jaw breathing against a rippled helm, a bright hand strokes against his cerise vent at his side, thumb coaxing over in gentle touches.
The prime can feel the hunter’s rising breaths through his fingers, shuffling below as he feels over his own sensitivities. Bright fingers stroke over wet cyan, above a fist pumps around aching deep red; their faces rubbing as they set up their body motions to meet without pulling their contact apart. Rippled helm rubbing against gilded crescent plate, a soft grinding that reads over their nerves as tender open kisses as one breathes over the other.
Below, bright fingers curl against cyan lips, holding himself open as Stalker guides his head against his partner’s vulva. Groans drip from the prime, arching himself up into them with his thighs. Wet flesh separates for a moment as Stalker settles himself once again, sitting in an open kneel with the prime’s legs hitched over his own. The prime followed through him in the motions, a hand holding his face close as he supports himself in a lean.
Bright lips are spread by the rolling member between them, taunting against the saturated flesh as the prime’s fingers find it against him. He lets it bump against his clit, oozing groans as his hands entertain themselves. Index and pointer guides the frilled member down against his vulva, flickering his thumb across his clit as Stalker burrows himself to his base.
“Oooh fuck,” the prime murmurs, his wet hand finding place at Stalker’s side, legs wrapping their meeting hips close. He squeezes the girth inside him, back arching as the hunter rolls in the saturated mess. Knuckles hold Stalker above the prime, bright hands coaxing against his vents as he begins to thrust. “Yeah, that’s good,” groans from the prime, petting over the fleshy erogenous zones at the hunter’s sides, drawing out low moans against his chin.
In their empathetic link sensory mouths continue to move, roaming over jaw and throat, motions following their head placements as Stalker holds himself steady above his writhing partner. The prime’s knees coil, hanging against the hunter’s sides as he groans against the rippled face, a hand gripping around over shoulder juts and against a dark neck. A noisy tempo rises to set as words fail them, communicating explicitly over their connection. The only verbal sounds they manages are in the call of their names. Spoken impassioned as their bodies falter to desire.
The prime is drawn the loudest, maw a gap and trembling with each filling thrust against his walls. His hands roamed over Stalker’s back, fixing firm only to trail again as his crest presses on Stalker’s throat.
Over their connection, the prime gives Stalker a taste of what he’s feeling, pulling a heavy groan from the hunter and making him pause – for a moment. The dueling sensation makes the hunter tremble, pulling his head away from his partner, staring down over him sat in his shadow.
At his back the void gleams, bathing the hanger with its omnipresent glow. Their ship’s shadow barely covers them as their bodies rock, saturated flesh slapping as Stalker pulls the prime’s legs around him.
It leaves the prime’s hands to wander, digits stroking over the hunter’s gut as he watches between his thighs. He’s enamored by the sight of his bright lips around the penetration thrusting inside him, lit in a soft glow by his cyan flesh. He tries to find somewhere to hold onto the hunter, faltering to fisting his palms against the floor. “Let me, get a hold of you fussy,” he whimpers, pulling Stalker down against him, rolling himself up into the thrusts.
“Oooh someone’s pushy,” the hunter rumbles between gasping breaths, hands gripping beneath the gilded juts at the prime’s thighs. He hoists their hips together as he thrusts, watching as the prime writhes beneath him, reaching to hold on as his head lulls off to the side in open groans.
His crown coils against the ground as his breathing pants, a hand kneading against his lips, spreading them and petting as he’s held against the penetration. Bucks roll him against the ground, trembling as he chases himself to a heaving orgasm – and taking Stalker with him as their senses mingle. It brings groans from the hunter as his bucks rock reinvigorated as he can feel his thrusts inside him.
Stalker returns to lean over his writhing partner, a hand holding a thigh against him that coils against his back, holding firm as hands trawl over his shoulders.
Their breaths merge as their heads rub again, speechless as motions speak for them.
The prime holds himself up into the hunter’s filling thrusts, feet coiling back as he tries to keep himself stable for their rising peaks. Above him Stalker’s sensory mouth wanders, moving over the prime’s skin and up against a breathing vent. One of his hands pets over the other one, a fist dragging on the ground as he barely holds himself steady. It’s taking all his willpower to stay focused, to bring more sounds from his writhing partner beneath him.
Stalker forces the prime back down against the ground, lifting himself to his knees as his hands grip the prime’s thighs. Noise leaves the prime shaking, a fist reaching back over his head, another grasping at a dark thigh as the penetration hammers him deep, having to look up at the hunter above him.
A dark hand wanders downwards as he bucks, faltering to the relentless gasps as their flesh slaps, a tempo on their meeting need as the prime slurs beneath him. Bright hands drift as he’s taken to orgasm, trembling and nerves twitching, legs pressing around Stalker’s gut as he tumbles over his own with huffing grunts. The hunter presses himself deep as his member twitches inside his partner, an ache squeezed from his crotch as he fills against the prime’s walls.
Beneath him the prime revels in the ridged member burrowed inside him, feeling the vicious spurts through his clenching flesh. Fluid drips between them as their motion begin to settle, spent as breathing turns from sharp to deep breathes. Small sounds still spill as their nerves are still sensitive, each gentle motion within the prime driving air from his lungs.
Slurred words exchange between them as Stalker presses himself out of the prime, cupping the prime’s grip at his side with a fixed gaze.
Over their connection, the prime blows him a kiss; and as his breathing still trembles, he speaks through their merged thoughts. A request to take a break, some time to cuddle – get a hold of their nerves again before they set out on a planned salvaging run. Stalker concedes, but notes to his partner that he’s still shaking – he can’t walk like this, he teases.
Against the floor the prime lies resigned, but happy enough to just let them linger there for a while, basking in the glow of the omnipresent void beneath their scouting vessel.
