Warframe [Sihroa Rok] - Breathing in furls; of white and gold [Part 1]
They've know each other for relative years, from the depths of an infested freight ship to the expanse of a blooming garden Warren and Malaphin have remained close. Both awkward, and emotionally clumsy, it takes a chance biological fault to bring them back to the tenno's place to convene - admit their congested feelings brought by shared emotional repair.
And of course, they are each other's 'first'.(Adult Tenno)
Characters | Operative Diviyoni-Jacob Warren and Malaphin the chimeric warframe
Contents | Sentimental gore, organic maintenance, domestic, fluff, love confession, foreplay, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, intimacy, vaginal riding, cuddling
Length | 7,471w
The glint of the artificial sunlight blooms across the patio deck, casting hues of vibrant orange and pink hues across the faux wood and the golden gilding. Stakes separate the landing from the open setting a story below it, overhanging into the damp musk of the cultivated ecosystem made of fresh plants, slicken with wet mud and stony soil loam. It’s where stalks of arboriforms flourish between the transplanted maple saplings, where stone outlines the makeshift pathways through the enormous cavern. Warren looks over it, watching the speckling of shredded arboriform fibers catch the lighting from the inner walkway of the deck.
Pulling one of the few cushioned chairs after him, he lands upon it with an exhaustive exhale, sinking down into the cushioning as his eyes drift close; speckles of dirt clinging to his brow. After a moment, the easing of a sigh, his mismatch sight glances down to the numerous rows of data points sat upon the table. A datapad smudged with grime, with freckles of dirt that are stark contrast to the tenno-orokin dialect that settles across the surface as his index finger lines over the holographic display. A mere laundry list of repairs to be made, and ones he’s already completed in the once abandoned war ship.
As Warren reclines, he shuffles into a more comfortable position, trawling through the catalog of notes scrawled into the surface as he walked through the grove. Beneath the table his clawed legs and pants still stick with dust half-heartedly brushed aside, allowing himself to slouch and for his claws to edge against the surfaces to keep him mostly in place. An inner claw scratches against his itching shin, a bone-claw finger pressing clean against his half-lip as his thoughts drift.
It’s one of the few occasions he’s able to have to himself, as he settles down within the late evening light, exhaustion clinging to his features as the artificial light drifts into lulls of blue. And as the silencing hum of the arboriform structures that entangle beneath the vessel’s walls, his senses drift and stares into the distance.
But he remains well aware enough to catch the unlatch of a patio door, just enough to glance over his shoulder to where the landing leads into the rest of the super structure. Beyond the trinkets that hang between the inner and outer patio Warren traces the shape of his partner, a prime whose fabric veil glances back. “Malaphin,” Warren greets, turning himself back to the datapad as he shakes himself awake. “How’d the stress test with Daishi go? She told me you co-signed to a mission later.”
A sigh breathes through the excalibur as he relieves himself of the gold and cream face covering, exposing the golden-tinge of his flesh and the orange metallic glints. His bare jaws barren of his mood as he wanders over to the Tenno. “She beat me up,” his mouth muscles twitch, “she gave me some pointers tho,” he leans against the table surface, his mismatched arms crossing against the deep navy tone of his torso, his mint green left arm pawing against his taupe right.
Warren smiles, a brief chuckle. “I’m sure she did; hard to beat a hydroid at their own game,” he lays down the datapad on the table, stretching his arms across the table with a grunt. “Thought that’d it take most of your day,” his arms pull back against his leaning chest, head cocking over towards the prime, “how long is it till the assignment?”
“An hour or so,” Malaphin’s teeth part, an amber claw tip itching against his replaced limb. His head turns to survey their surrounding once the tenno turns out to the ferns and saplings, nestling his head into his folded limbs. They’re alone, yes but… a muscle set on the prime’s exposed feature twitches, hinting with flustered thoughts. “Hey, uhm… can we talk privately about something…?”
For a moment only the glint of Warren’s voided sight meets the prime, but turns to face him in full “about what? Looks like it’s pretty private for the moment right now,” he smiles, “we’re the only ones in the room.” He sets his head upon his clawed palm, bone claws strung through his auburn hair.
Malaphin fidgets, a motion to suggest he’s glancing away. “It’s… it’s about something personal.”
For a moment, a surprised stare.
“A-um,” the prime shuffles, hesitating, “After… after I spared with Daishi I wanted to try… something out I saw in a video.”
“Like… what?” a quizzical brow presses.
“Uhm.. ah, self-exploration. I think you can call it? I think something might’ve gotten knocked out of place when we were sparing and…” his teeth clench, a mild embarrass snarl. The metallic brims of what remains of his faceplate squeeze in their columns of flesh. “I just wanted some relief…”
A flat glance meets between them, a mild of confusion as the exhausted tenno’s mind strains to process. “So… you tried to jack off. But it only hurt…?”
Silence.
Malaphin, with his shoulders drooping in shame, nods.
Pulling himself from the table surface, Warren tucks his datapad into his coat pocket, creaking the chair out beneath him as the prime steps himself out of the way. Freed hands settle against the prime’s torso, fingers splaying across the navy tones to initiate a contact-transference, a diagnostics check as Warren’s head rests on the prime’s shoulder.
“Might’ve just got a codex mixed up at some point,” the tenno sighs, a hand prying through his hair before another stretch. “There’s an alcove beneath the overhang, we can do a quick physical check there, if that’s alright, Mal?”
The prime nods, hands prying against his skin. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
As he follows the tenno’s pace off the patio and down through the short stairwell, Malaphin’s fingers itch against his skin, embarrassment still splaying across his yellow flesh tones in the faint lime energy hue. From the metal floorboards down into stone paths, the prime follows Warren closely to a shallow alcove carved beneath the level of the cultivated ecosystem. Just secluded enough for a physical assessment, separated from the rest of the vessel with merely a stone wall.
With a sigh the prime drops himself down onto one of the benches lining the wall, with only a hanging lantern to illuminate the cool hide-away. But it only makes his flushed features warmer as the tenno moves himself between his legs, crouching down as fingers undo the leather straps that keep his front half mostly in place. Malaphin sits back, face turned away as he eases himself loose and limber – fists balling against the bench as the cool air breathes against the inner carapace of his lower volt extremities and the exposed flesh of his chest and stomach.
“You’ve been healing up nicely,” Warren shuffles, careful as he peers into the meld of organic and electronic components that keep the warframe’s upper and lower portions together. Between the points connects lines of webbing flesh, ones that stretch as he eases the portions a part. He repositions himself again, his mostly normal hand pressing the parts together as he settles to straddle the prime’s left leg and kneel against the bench. The organic tinting of grey wires amongst grey makes it difficult to check the physical connections. And beneath his hand, fingers peeling between where healthy mass has grown to revitalize the prime’s organic systems, Warren can find nothing amiss. His brow furrowing.
Bronze mucus sticks to Warren’s palm as he wipes it off on his well-stained pants, organic oils produced to ease the connection between the body parts. “Well, doesn’t look like anything’s off-kilter, Mal,” the tenno sighs, holding the carapace portions together with one hand as another pushes the leather straps back through the buckles.
“It might just very well be a codex,” he exhales, bringing himself to sit up, one hand cradling the prime’s exposed feature as another cups against the remains of the excalibur’s amber fringe. “This might take a moment,” Warren whispers as their temples press, another contact transference.
It ebbs through both of them as the sensation of nervous tingles carry through cortex and spine, dancing through in electric synchrony. A temporary merger of temporal sensor; where the prime’s hand eases up against the tenno’s side as the semi-human peers through organic components, picking through the various senses for where the sensitivity issue covers itself. Of course, the prime’s energy flushes through his face as his nerves are pried from painful pricks, easing into the simmer of comforting bliss.
“That should do it,” Warren whispers, easing to pull himself away from the prime – but clawed hands hold him in place. They nestle against his partial leaning waist, gentle in their suggestion as their features rest against the other – comfortable, wanting, as Malaphin keeps the tenno close.
And Warren doesn’t mind.
It’s only them, alone together beneath the hanging lantern and surrounded by mist-moistened stone.
Frozen in hesitation, Malaphin has to force himself to release his transference partner, a fist still resting against the tenno’s side. “T-thanks, Divi,” he fumbles, turning himself to look to stone as Warren eases himself down on the bench beside the prime.
With a chuckle, Warren pats the warframe on the back, keeping their proximity close. “Looks like nothing got knocked out of place, or sensitivity was out of whack. Tell me,” he grins playfully, “what did you try to do.” Resting his head upon a lightly curled fist, elbow resting on the prime’s shoulder.
A glance to the tenno, and a glance away; embarrassment fiddles through into crossed arms. “I, uhm…” clawing against his forearm. “guess it’s obvious it was my first attempt, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Warren snorts, “maybe I should teach ya. Can’t just dive in expecting it all to feel good without a bit of a prelude,” he sighs, glancing up to the lantern with a tired smile.
“Ah-uhm. Right now?!” the prime stares, pulling himself back from the tenno to look him over.
Wide-eyed, Warren pulls himself back as well – although the distance between them is still sparse, leaning against the bench as a dark thumb has found itself against his corrupted wrist. “Oh, no no, it,” he breaks a laugh, a soft smile, “it was a joke. I’m, I’m sure you can figure it out yourself.” He never gave it a thought before, of involving Malaphin privately.
A muscle twitches on the warframe’s exposed features, optics searching around the alcove for anything, searching his brain for more than a general acceptance. “Ye-yeah, maybe next time…” he fumbles, expecting for them to get up, go their separate ways – to spend his remaining time before his first experience out on the field. His hand that Warren had given him pleading against his silent erection – wishing he had said more.
Neither of them, whatsoever, move.
Warren watches the buzz of the lantern above them, the faint hum of the arboriform systems deep within the ship’s mechanics. A hum that echoes through his thoughts, flipping through his thoughts – if Malaphin was to take him up on the offer.
He nips his lip on the half of his face that hasn’t been mutilated, glancing over to the prime’s adverted sight through his tussled, sweat matted hair.
Would he…?
He’d need a shower first.
A cough breaks the tension, a preface as Warren moves to stand. “I still got some maintenance to get to – you got a mission, right? To test your abilities and their effectiveness on the field.” Offering a hand to the prime.
“Yeah,” the warframe grunts, prying himself up off the bench, “they’re a bit fragmented. But we’ll see how it goes.” Being so close to the opening of the alcove, he expects the conversation to be forgotten as he turns, the joke just that, a joke to pent against their intimacy; something that causes him confusion – what ends is there?
“Hey,” Warren calls over, not waiting for the prime to turn, and stands. “After the mission, you’re more than welcome to come by my place, Mal.”
Malaphin pauses, looking back. “You… you want to…?”
Warren’s features flinch, half fumbling with his own admission. “I mean… do we have any reason not to?” He smiles, taking full advantage of the warframe’s hesitation to close the distance. “Just… give me a ping when you get back, alright…? They can take a while, and I might be working on something before you get back.”
“Of-of course,” Malaphin tries to smile, the winglets connecting to his shoulder blades perking up. Their strides matching, they walk back into the ship’s cultivated ecosystem, following along the brown toned stone path.
At the meeting intersection that leads back into the ship proper, Warren cuts the warframe off, hands cupping the prime’s face. With a soft exhale and a tender grin, their foreheads touch, eyes closing as once more, the pair sharing a smile. “Go on, start getting ready for your mission,” the tenno teases as he releases the prime. “You’ll do fine out there.”
To everyone else, Malaphin’s steps are soft. Barely a whisper as he walks through the central atrium of the ship, weaving between those occupying the hallway between the hanger bay and the ship proper. Upon his skin lies remnants of now settled adrenaline as bitter scratches heal from elbow to palm – the streaks of electricity that coursed through arms not set to take such energy all at once. Excalibur, Loki, Volt; portions spliced together. On the cusp of complete physiological integration, some things still need tuning. His silence is unremarkable, his visage cloaked by the cream and tan veil.
But within his cobbled together chest, his heart is thunderous.
‘Hey, uhm, we’re on route to the hanger now,’ replays in the back of his mind as he crosses the central landing, as he climbs the steps up into the central span hallway. A glass pane separates the path from the interior garden sitting a few floors below him, one he turns his attention to for a moment.
Warren’s passion project… aside from just getting the ship more operable.
‘It’s going to be beautiful,’ he remembers in an old conversation as he stares out over the mess of blooming foliage, where a barrier sits between the remodeled freshly laid soil and the remnants of the disassembled splendor that once preceded it.
‘Yeah, just needs a few more years of work,’ he recalls the tenno’s smile, the flicker of mud smudged on his cheek. Him sat on a crate, disheveled from field work as the warframe offered him a packaged lunch. He sat on the other end of the short bench, watching Warren for a moment before turning away. ‘You hungry?’ calls over, ‘it’s good. Make it yourself?’ To which he nodded – and the veil pulled back, an elbow pulled over. A soft kiss that rolls to teeth meeting teeth.
Malaphin rubs his face, pulling himself away from the vista below and to the hallways. Not that far from his commander’s cabin, from Warren’s cabin.
Initially flipping the veil over his face into reverse, he tears it from his crown. He stuffs it into the band of his pants, looping the strap around the fabric wrap that holds it in place hastily. The strap around his left bicep comes next, yanking the loose sleeve down over the short elbow jut, tucking and rolling the material into a more compact form to stick alongside the facial veil that leaves his facial muscles exposed, his teeth gritting.
Was he really expecting anything to happen? He questions as he nears the door; if they went anywhere with it… how far would they?
Thoughts that pervade as he stands before the cabin door, a fist ready to knock.
Would they? Uncertain hesitation.
Knocking once, twice, and a third, he slips the door open. “Warren,” he speaks up, barely peering into the residence. All he can see is the backwall that connects to the kitchen, “It’s-it’s me, Mal,” he calls in, fingers pressing cautious against the door.
“Ah, over here, down the hall,” the tenno calls out from deeper in the dwelling past the kitchen island, the entry into a side room, and in the open lounge. Panels along the edge of the ceiling keep the illumination dim, but warm as the prime closes the door behind him, peaking beyond the boundary that separates the entryway from the kitchen. Further inside, he can hear dishware being put away. “How’d the mission go?”
“There was some, complications,” Malaphin steps across the floorboards, met halfway by Warren’s clawed left hand on his chest. Pausing to look over the tenno.
His hair still sat ruffled with the remnants of water, quickly dried of whatever grim Warren has been working through while he was away. Pleasant scents dim the tensely in his muscles as he’s guided over to the island, suggested down onto one of the stools. Despite the bone claw corruption, the touch is careful, cupping over his own left hand suited with an almost gloved prosthetic.
Warren pulls himself away, “give me a moment, kitchen is a bit of a mess right now,” the tenno chuffs with a smile – of course drawing the warframe’s attention.
A few scant dishes sit empty on the countertops at the side of the sink, collected in stacks and in drying racks. In two glass forms, the shape of dough; and remnants of flour sticks at the edge of the dark surface, and with further investigation, a pile is brushed into the floor and outlines a faint ‘V’ shape. He pays it no mind.
Sitting down, Malaphin instead focuses himself to clearing himself of all but the bare minimum, stacking the veil, the sleeve, and the fabric wrap neatly on the island’s counter as he watches Warren clean up a dough-formed disaster. Head tucked into the palm of his hand, he watches over the muscle-taut skin that ends in the bone claws that click against the porcelain, over the melanin streaked limb that reaches over head to set away the empty dishes. A dark tank top clings to the toned features of the tenno, barely able to dilute the innate glow that lines down his spine, rippling down his back in the low light and ending with the faint flicker of a white-strand tail. The click of claws sounds every movement the tenno makes against the tile flooring, the announcement of his digitigrade talons.
Malaphin pulls off his outer armor, giving himself room just to breathe. “So…” he hesitates, looking up.
“Had a mess with the flour,” Warren looks back, setting the last of the dishware away. “Dough needs a couple hours to rise properly,” he closes the cabinet, turning to his companion. “Flour can wait till later, you come first,” he smiles, leaning across the island surface.
The prime reaches across, brushing off a fleck of flour. “Had something on your face,” he coos.
Warren snorts, “come on, affectionate,” rising off the countertop and circling around to the warframe’s side. “Let’s get you comfortable.” And takes his hand.
Leading Malaphin further into his quarters, they walk past the couch and opposite to where his bedroom resides. Out of the way of normal foot traffic, Warren leads Malaphin into a smaller corner that sits below the landing, an alcove settled with cushions, blankets, and knickknacks. Either by stepping down the short stairs or by just stepping over the barrier between the two portions, its easy to settle into as the overhead light remains dim, additional lights tinting the area in blue hues.
With plenty enough room to stretch out, Malaphin settles himself to sit back against the cushions as he watches the tenno on the other end of the room. As Warren converses amongst himself, picking up a wicker basket from the other end of the quaint alcove, Malaphin lies back against the solid wall, fingers interlacing across his chest. He takes a moment, then removes the cloth that hangs from the back of his head fringe. Pulling it over his face, giving his frilling throat-vents room to breathe, he tosses it over into the walkway beyond the more open portion of the sectional seating. Wrestling off his loose shirt before Warren returns to his side of the alcove.
Warren takes up the space on his other side, the wicker basket in hand as he nestles himself at the prime’s side. “So, uh,” he swallows, setting it down on his lap. “I’ve got some lubricant if… well if you might not secrete your own lubrication.” He halves a laugh and an awkward smile, holding up half a bottle. “Best to be safe.”
“You already had uh, experience?”
“Eh,” Warren puts the wicker basket to the side, “I’ve got a couple toys I got for such occasions, when I need it.”
Malaphin sighs, “well, at least one of us has experience.”
“What did you try earlier to get that bit of pain? Didn’t go slow did you,” Warren asks, sitting up to lean, motioning in the low light a slow ‘jerk off’ wrist roll.
“Kinda, yeah…” the warframe heaves, head tilting back.
It’s Warren’s turn to sigh. “Oh Mal, you need to be more careful with yourself.” There’s a pause as they watch each other, words fumbling as they stare merely a breath apart. Mismatch eyes look back to the golden tinge that makes place of the warframe’s face, over the remnants of what marked the prime’s face plate. A tongue slips between the half of his mouth that is still recognizably human, wetting his lips. “So, uhm,” he sits flushed. Uncertainty swelling in his throat as the vents at the left of his throat flare, breathing through an exhale.
Hesitation; an amber claw itching at forearm; bone claws digging against the dark pants that cover Warren’s thighs. Their breathing and the minor humming within the walls the only noise beside the shuffle of sheets.
There’s a pause… and Warren eases himself over to straddle Malaphin’s lap.
“Can I ask you something?” he whispers, hands pressing down over the navy that makes the prime’s torso. Fingers trace along the metal housing that keeps the double straps in place at the sides of the prime’s neck, the straps that keep his front and back firm. In the silence, claws dance up along his sides; he can feel the warframe exhale beneath him.
“What is it, Divi?”
Warmth flutters over the tenno’s half corrupted face as he stares d own with void and somatic sights, features going from firm to soft as he looks down over the warframe laid before him. The one he managed to make whole again. “Malaphin, do you love me? For who I am.”
“Of course I do, Diviyoni-Jacob Warren,” the warframe coos, scooting himself into a partial sit. “And do you love me too?”
Warren smiles, hands grazing up past the exhale of the golden muscles laid bare, taking the warframe’s jaws into his hands. Fingers press against the boundary of flesh and skin, thumbs cupping against the warmth of exposed flesh. “For as long as I’ve known you, Mal,” and he presses a kiss against the teeth, easing them down into a transference grin. It intertwines between them, melding between senses and thought.
Claws guide themselves down between the space of shirt and pants, spreading and searching as they continue the sensory kiss. It flourishes through their minds, the hits of attuning transference doesn’t dilute the physical touch as hands explore and cup against bare skin, the palms cradling the warframe’s features close. Thumbs hitch themselves around the band in Warren’s pants, digits slipping down within them as hand leaves the warframe’s face.
It travels down the exposed muscles that line the side of the warframe’s throat, drifting over the strap that keeps him together and down to the soft breaths that ease into palms. Smooth fingers divide against the golden flesh, petting a sigh from the warframe – his hands cup backwards beneath shirt and pants, claws pressing against the skin of his rear. And their kiss pulls apart, foreheads pressing in its place.
“Mhm, that’s good,” Malaphin sighs, easing his chest into the embrace at his side. The fingers that press against the flesh furls of his exposed chest vent, the palm that cups against his every breath, and the slick of moist fingers that pervade.
“Good,” Warren smirks, “I was hoping it would.” His fingers splay as his hips ease against the claws that dance along his skin. Over the rifts in his back, over the peeks of stark white as they move back to front and roam over his skin. Beneath his shirt one cups against his own external breath, pressing the flesh open against the restraints of the dark shirt.
“I’m guessing,” the prime eases, left hand stroking the white flesh hidden from his direct view, “you found out from yourself.”
“Yeah,” Warren laughs, his thumb brushing against the furl of golden flesh back into place, fingers easing against the slow and shallow exhales. “It’s, quite tender though, but,” he sighs, easing himself against the claws that roam against the flesh furls, in response to the hand on his other side returning down to the edge of his pants. “Soft touches are enough,” he hums as the claws stroke each lobe of his white vent, giving them each a sentiment of affectionate attention. Once more, he talks the prime’s face into his palms, easing them back into another fulfilling kiss.
“I can tell,” Malaphin smiles against the transference connection, where the physical and neural merge into phantoms of contact, the temptation of ideas exploring between the interlace of their thoughts. The hows and whens, the directing and decisions as claws curl into the tank top Warren wears, yanking him firmly close as the kiss deepens, and opens to the kiss of lips on golden tendrils.
Palms release the prime’s features, resting upon his shoulders as the slick tendrils take against his teeth, into his mouth as his eyes drift closed, as the claws dug firmly in the band of his pants coil and taunt. A splatter of mucus slimes against his mouth as he takes a collective, groaning around them as he leans his groin forth, wiggling within his pants.
Warmth worms around and within Warren’s mouth as he leans into the warframe’s exploring tendrils, pressing himself down against his stomach, balancing himself kneed to fists that anchor behind the prime’s amber crest. “Malaphin,” he sighs between the tendril strokes, kissing them as they depart back behind the warframe’s teeth. Their foreheads drift into contact again, oxidizing slime smears against the tenno’s mouth.
A glint of somatic sight searches against the golden muscle, and the metallic amber points.
Warren leans back into it, spreading himself back into the exploring hands that draw against the flicker of his short tail, the ones that spread over his void-rifted skin and teases the edges of his pants further down, exposing his briefs as he ruts. Pressing down, his breathing halved by the tendrils stroking against his teeth, gasping through his vents as he wiggles within his pants. Rocking back, and forth, he indulges himself in the aromatic sensation filling his senses, lapping at his jaw.
The warframe rumbles beneath him as he edges the tenno’s pants further down his thighs, as far as they are able with him straddling the warframe’s center. A minor frustration that roams back over the exposed body above him. He presses, kneads, easing Warren closer as his tendrils rumble against the tenno’s jaw when he breaks away to breathe. “Divi,” he purrs, claws splaying down against the band of his pants.
“Hold on,” Warren whispers against his crown, edging himself out of the claws, removing himself from the straddle. In full he strips himself of his pants, from his brief; kicking them away from their corner as he lies on his hip, exposing his lower slim form and the hint of glow from his crotch. A fade of pigmentation, the Y-shape slit that peaks white furls.
As he twists over to grab the bottle of lube claws curl into the edge of his top, pulling him back to Malaphin.
He sets the bottle on the narrow border behind the warframe as he’s pulled into another wanton kiss, another slop of golden tendrils embraced by lips and teeth as the tenno kneels beside the warframe, a hand kneading down into the soft cushioning outside a dark bicep. Claws find hold of him once again as he leans free of his pants, trying to ease him forth to sit atop, to return to the straddle – but a hand holds against the warframe’s stomach. A resilience sat with a grin slicken with enamored fluid drips
Upon a transference request, tendrils return to the excalibur’s maw.
It leaves the tenno to gasp as their foreheads press, staring through sight and somatic connection. “Malaphin,” he leans against the warframe, chest to chest, his cheeks remaining flushed as he grins, “that’s enough prelude for the both of us.” He tries to laugh, shuffling, “lets get those pants off then,” kissing teeth.
There’s a transferred grin that ebbs through their connection, a kiss back. “Probably should’ve done that when you were removing yours.” Warren snorts, letting his hand drift and follow the warframe’s body as he moves to sit.
Together they undo the tie around the band in his pants, easing himself free from the fabric as the length of tan cloth is discarded to the side. His pants, thrown completely out of the alcove. Fingers splay against the underside of his stomach as he claws through auburn hair.
His other hand mimics Warren’s on his stomach; searching down, further, and further to split against the tenno’s crotch. Soft to the touch beneath his claws, barely split by seams of white.
Above him, their heads press once more as Warren resigns flushed, eyes lulling near closed. He holds himself at ease against the claws that cup between his thighs, the gentle tease of claws. A simmering of want that catches in Warren’s through, feeling himself already starting to become undone. “I’ve… uh, got a choice over what I got down there,” he looks to Malaphin, slightly pulling himself away. To look to where his hand lies on Malaphin’s crotch, the physical ‘hatch’ of his organ. “Can I see it…?” he whispers, fingers dividing around the cupping shape that sits on the warframe’s crotch.
“Oh-uh… of – of course,” the prime fumbles, pulling his hand away from the tenno’s crotch, holding against his waist.
A nonverbal apology. It’s kissed back against his crown.
Malaphin sits… a little shy.
As fingers spread against his crotch, his own pulls itself out of the auburn hair to hold against his flushing face. It at least gets a smile out of Warren, “I’ll help,” he sighs, shuffling himself upwards again. Leaning up against Malaphin, he directs the warframe’s hand back to his own crotch as his own tend to the slow splitting in the warframe’s anatomy.
Petting. Stroking along the ease of flesh. Fingers press gently against the glint of gold flesh that begins to spread out from what was once a cupping external appearance. A tender touch that is occasionally hitched by the splaying of claws against an expression of glowing white. Claws delving, spreading, curling within the emerging furls of white coaxes out gentle exhales from Warren, his forehead leaning upon Malaphin’s.
Digits continue to spread the once sealing folds in the prime’s crotch, exposing the two-tone within from internal to external. First drops the dark sack that’s lined with the golden glow, forms still lying sticky to the touch as they relax down against the sheet beneath them. Self-lubricating, a welcoming surprise as Warren’s hands tend to the prime’s balls – his halted shafted still behind another slit of golden flesh. A hesitation Warren eases as he leans into Malaphin’s claws, feeling the intruding claws edge inside a facilitating entrance. “Malaphin,” he groans, letting himself roll against the palm. “Hmmm, yeah, right there’s good.”
Warren eases his palm against the slowly expressing flesh, cradling the two-tone balls as he welcomes Malaphin against his crotch. Flesh embraces the hand indulging in his body as he strokes the golden warmth, letting himself breath freely as claws dig, press, and stroke the dynamic flows and folds between his legs – the side-ward finger glide against his core arousal that holds back.
And claws dig back through auburn furls, pulling Warren into another sloppy kiss. “Divi,” the prime sighs.
He holds himself open as his balls are cradled, played with, pet by an endearing thumb.
Against the strokes of now thoroughly wet fingers, his golden girth begins to slide out into an enamoring grip. Fingers slide against the sloped head, trailing a cradle down the dynamic underside and the rounding shape near its base. The palm holds him gently as Warren sighs against his teeth, eyes sliding close as the tenno arches into the quest of claws.
Teeth press against teeth as they share another exasperated kiss, their hands sharing in exploration of the other’s body. As digits wrap around the thick of gold, claws find focus within the damp trembling wraps. Their breath shares between the trace kisses, a space where a tendril occasionally laps, where tongue licks back as blue somatics stare back. It only takes a moment for Warren to look to his hand, where his hand thrusts around the prime’s rising erection. “Looks like that’ll fit well,” he quips, returning against a golden lick.
Unbeknownst to him, a knot sat at Malaphin’s base.
“Good,” Malaphin purrs as his fingers spread Warren’s white. Dark digits paw against the blooming warmth between Warren’s legs, stroking the yield of coils with his gentle touch. It coaxes another sighed exhale from the tenno against his crown, auburn curls rolling against his muscles as their mouths remained separated for that moment.
It’s the space that allows the glint of blue to lull over the amber metal that sits between the golden muscles, where another soft groan leaves Warren as the fingers delve into his welcoming body to splay and tease the curated entrance suiting to accommodate. He rolls against it as he strokes Malaphin’s girth, plying his thumb against the furls at the side of the smooth erection. Narrow, wide, wider, and down to base, he slows his jerking motion as the warframe holds his erect core, dripping a groan.
“Enjoying it, Divi?” the prime whispers, cupping his hand against the furling white stalks that hold his wrist in place.
“Definitely,” the tenno smiles, cradling the golden glow of Malaphin’s lower anatomy. His fingers curl around the simmering suggestion of the knot, stroking it once more so it sits perked. And abandons it, hand meeting the tenno’s half smirk. “What would you give to have me down there?” He teases, letting his hand meet between them, wetting them with his saliva before they encase the prime once more.
And to it, fingers coax within him, drawing him to groan through a gasp, writhing around it as his erect muscle core his pressed between his stomach and the warframe’s wrist.
“I’m sure I could ask you the same thing,” Malaphin purrs, drawing his thumb around the sensitive trunk that’d guide the tenno’s currently fluttered arousal.
“Oh,” Warren sighs, “hmn,” he bites his lip, rocking himself against the small finger-made jerks. A fist balls outside the prime’s side. “Malaphin,” he groans back, taking the trace of golden tendrils against his snarling teeth. Finger thrusts take his preoccupation, digging against the sheet as his head falls down against the excalibur’s shoulder. Muscles squeeze around the prevailing claws, wrapping around the digits firm as he trembles.
And for the moment, he indulges.
Pushing the hand off his needing coils, Warren pulls himself on top of Malaphin, pressing the prime’s erection between his body and the navy stomach to which it’s attached. Claws make place against his hips as he rocks, as he leans against the warframe’s form laid back against his cushions. White coils take hold of the warframe’s erection, wrapping around it, situating it in a way against the smaller erection core.
“Oh fuck, Divi,” the warframe groans, staring up at the huffing expression, the flushed cheeks and the sweat-dampened hair that sticks to his face and exposed teeth. A rocking makes their words taut, voices trembling as Warren bucks himself against the golden erection.
He tries to pull his hair out of his face as he looks down over Malaphin, over the lulling golden tendrils and the exasperating breath. Warren anchors himself back as he grinds their bodies together, indulging in the senseless motions he makes. A hand presses against the warframe’s stomach as the tenno rises himself just enough, coils directing the erection up merely lying near erect. One over another they direct the lubricated golden to stand perked, maneuvered to pat against his curated entrance that blooms below his core erection – more of a prehensile clit in its current form.
Claws press against Warren’s thighs as he begins to ease downwards. A breath sharing between them as sensitive contact of meeting tapered tip and squeezing flesh. It leaves Warren’s jaw to drop as he sinks around the widening girth that tests just how much his body can take, slowly settling down to take Malaphin’s erection in full as his legs squeeze around the prime’s.
“Ah-Malaphin. Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpers, catching it in his throat almost complete as his brows squeeze upwards, fingers and bone claws pressing against the warframe’s torso as he trembles. Against his sides claws hold fierce against him, almost to the point it’d draw blood if his unairu coating didn’t compensate in his steed. He strains to hold himself still; saliva dripping from his open mouth as he gasps, hands pleading on the navy torso.
“Divi,” Malaphin trembles, arching up into the embracing warmth around his girth, the glowing whate that squeezes him into a sensory puddle by the assertive dominance. Head cast back, at a lost for words as he tries not to think about the enamoring body above him, the gasp of partial groans. He tries to search up the tenno’s body, entrapped by the wrapping legs, clawing along a bending back. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans, wandering a palm against the open snarling teeth on Warren’s corrupted left.
Warren leans into the hand against his face, fists balling against Malaphin’s chest as their stomachs meet, eyes lulling shut as his teeth grit in a tremble.
“Want me… to take over?” the prime whispers. His claws move further, digging through the curly auburn, his other hand meeting at a softly slimed cheek. A remnant of their kisses.
“Nmhm,” foils as they rock against another, Warren leaning into the clawed palms as he tries to support himself, fists balling into the sheets. “I… just needed a moment, love,” he coos, leaning against the warframe, a hand cupping behind the golden muscles as claws return against his sides – a thumb strumming against his vent.
Their bodies pull against another; foreheads pressing as they share another dripping kiss as their bodies rock and grind. “Malaphin,” the tenno groans, bucking down around the warframe, riding the slowed thrusts as claws pry against his back. “Fuck,” his eyes falter closed, hand holding them forehead to forehead, “I fucking love you so much.” He groans.
Golden tendrils remain behind breathing teeth as an arm wrap around the tenno’s back, yielding him close as they buck, whispering amongst themselves in the shared space. A hand finds focus in the white furling vent at Warren’s side as they indulge into another fierce kiss, one broken up by the groans and gasps, hitched by the bobbing of body against body and enhanced by the wet slaps of their meeting bodies.
Claws pry around another between the prime’s legs, his own paws splaying against the sheets, pushing against the linens as they rut, bodies messing with sweat and arousal.
“Divi- Warren,” Malaphin growls, head arching backwards, thrusting into the encompassing white as Warren’s fists ball against the sheets, holding himself upwards as golden flesh slaps inside him. “Ahhn, oh fuck,” he groans, trying to press himself entirely into his commander.
Warren writhes against the pressure forming between them – the widening girth at the warframe’s base. He pulls himself into a sit, where claws dig against the rifts of white that follows from his back to his knees. Quivering, fucking, he stares down at the warframe as he claws through his sweat laced furl. “Oh fuck,” he realizes, trembling as his palms hold against the excalibur’s stomach.
“Wha-what is it?!” Malaphin tries to stop, trembling in desire, claws digging against the unairu armor that plates over the tenno’s thighs.
“You’ve got a knot,” Warren exasperates, rocking around their meeting arousals. His erect genital core aches and wraps against the wide knotting. “I… I don’t know if it’ll fit like this,” he exhales a partial laugh, still grinding down around Malaphin – completely flushed in the peaking of arousal. “Let’s um… just – just finish up this first, is that alright?”
“Is-is that bad?” Malaphin sits tense, wiggling beneath Warren’s grinding body.
“No, not at all,” Warren tries to chuckle, but it’s only a whine that leaves him as the thrusts resume, claws straining to pull him down once more. He holds the excalibur’s head as he rests down against Malaphin, gasping in the space between them, bucking down against the thrusts. “It’s just – I don’t think you’ll fit as much for now,” he chuckles, prying his bone claws into the sheet beneath them. “Malaphnnn,” he groans, arching down, head dropping as he strains to rise himself upon his fists.
His hands plea against the fabric, balling through it as claws pull against his skin, kneading down his sides and thighs, pulling around his rear as their bodies buck and grind. Warren holds himself above the prime trying to pry their bodies together in totality, eyes lingering half open as the excalibur’s head heaves back against the cushioning. “Ohhhh fuck, Divi,” he groans, slapping their bodies together, drawing Warren to tremble as he edges against his end.
“Ah – Mal,” Warren bites back, quivering as his muscles squeeze, bucking around the thrusts, “Malaphin!” he whimpers, voice trembling as he repeats in enamored cries, muffling as his head rests upon the prime’s. Eyes screwing shut as his mouth hangs through the aching breaths, fists balling as he cums around the golden flesh, rocking through it as their bodies begin to ache. Pulling his hand through his hair, arm screwing up through his furls, he stares down at the prime as he bucks through his final, still tender as he rides Malaphin.
Grunts and groans surge through the warframe as Warren rides him, chuffing as he tries to sink into the white flesh around his golden. Pleads for release drip from a mouth with lulling tendrils, claws finding hold of the bucking tenno’s hips.
Looking over him once more, hand combing back through his hair, Warren smiles. An almost exhausted smile. “Yeah, fuck me,” Warren shivers, leaning against the warframe’s gut, bucking around the thrusts. “Give me it, love,” he tries to purr; but the shaking in his breath extends his goal, “fuck me,” he almost sighs, grinning as he continues to ride the prime.
“Divi,” Malaphin whines, “ouhhh fuck,” yanking his claws against the unairu armored skin, utterly burying himself into the tenno as he sits up, almost achieving that if it wasn’t for his knot.
Warren’s hands pry against his back as he buries his face against the white furls of Warren’s neck; tendrils lapping against it before his hips begin to snap. It coaxes hitching groans from the tenno on top of him as hands splay against his shoulder blade winglets, fingers coiling against them in ever successive jerk.
Teething against what amount of lip he still has, Warren presses himself around the finishing bucks, trembling in the clawing grip as loads of explosive warmth cradles itself inside his gut. A golden finish into the strong encompassing white that leaves them both breathless, and tender as their muscles slouch, hands lingering against one another as their orgasms finally settle.
A sigh; oozing from the prime as he embraces Warren close, trembling as the white coils seethe around his spent member, collecting their excited merged mess.
Through the erect lull there still lies the twitches, the sensitive breaths as Malaphin’s claws trail down the tenno’s rifted spine, hanging limp as their bodies are pulled apart – a wet plop as Warren frees themselves of one another. In the space between the white coils finally collect, sealing the prime’s cum inside Warren as they fall back into the sheets, amongst the cushioning.
And there, they share another kiss. A hand cupping against a wet cheek.
