Gundam Wing Duo/Wufei drowning out the screams
It's always cold on a ship. You have to make your own heat. Find it where you can. Why do you think so many models have the bunks right next to the engines? Right outside some steel and mylar is the endless vacuum and even if you're set on fire you'll always be cold on a ship. It's the nature of the mind.
Just like it's the nature of the body to wrench life out of trauma. Joy out of death. The need to survive means you'll twist yourself in so many ways to make things right in hell, even if it means you make yourself a monster. If that's what it takes.
And that's why I'm letting Chang bite my throat like he's thinking about taking some of it with him when we're done. I've got his hair tangled tight in my fingers, my nails scraping so deep he'll feel the welts through a flight suit.
He wants to fuck me. I can feel it in the ragged thrusts digging his dick into my hip. Maybe later I'll let him. Give him a taste of L2 filth that'll chase him to sleep in the surrounding ever night. Right now I want to get lost in his rage, the terribly beautiful loathing that coats him like a stolen skin. He's so conflicted, so angry, near mad with all the things tearing at his mind and soul and honor that he can drown out everything else but himself to me. Muffle the memories with his despair.
I'm going to carve out some of his silence for myself, dig it out with my teeth and tongue around his dick. It'll keep the screams at bay for a while.