Where does one put their hands in situations like this?
Brainiac’s mind is a eddying pool of surging emotions and physical sensations, his eyes going from too-wide to closed moments after Lyle’s mouth meets his own. It’s a simple thing to lean into the other boy’s touch, to rise up and meet the press of his lips and the heat of his body. Oddly enough, the feeling nearly drowns out 3/4ths of his thought tracks, leaving him floundering in instinct as to how to proceed.
It doesn’t seem right to simply let his arms rest on the bed when he’s become the recipient of such fervent affection, so he buries his hands in Lyle’s hair instead. It’s soft and still a little damp from the biochamber, sliding easily through his fingers as he draws his new mate closer, erasing the empty space between them. It’s only then that he even realizes neither of them are wearing much of anything, and that their proximity is allowing him to feel quite of bit of Lyle’s bare skin.
“Mmm,” he murmurs in surprised approval when his bottom lip is tugged between the Terran’s teeth, a strange shivering exploding out from that spot to race along his skin and settle somewhere in his lower abdomen. It burns there, urging his hips to rise in a way that he’s positive is quite inappropriate considering the situation, but that is insanely difficult to resist.
Querl has never had much use (or occasion) for physical arousal, and in spite of the fact that he’s engaged in self-stimulation from time to time, this is quite obviously nothing like that. He can feel his hormone levels rising in tandem with his internal temperature at each new touch of Lyle’s fingertips, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead as he maneuvers the two of them onto their sides so he can wrap the Terran up in his arms more effectively. He wasn’t aware that this was part of the early stages of Earthling courting rituals, but he can’t bring himself to question it when he doesn’t have to. Perhaps their extended rivalry and subsequent friendship replaces some of the traditional steps of human romantic entanglements?
Pulling away for air when he begins to feel woozy, he blinks open his eyes and tries to focus. “Impressive. Even that short bout of physical interaction has caused my vasopressin levels to raise by—” he calculates the figure “—7.6%.”
There’s no denying it anyway, not with their proximity being what it is; he risks reaching out with his toe to run it along the smooth skin of Lyle’s ankle before quickly pulling back.
“I make the logical assumption that you are still agreeable to my proposal?” he whispers, biting at his bottom lip when he suddenly remembers the circumstances that led them to this point. It had hardly been ideal conditions, what with Lyle being half-dead, barely revived and half-conscious. Now that Querl is more awake he realizes he should have been more concerned that Lyle might change his mind. Who wouldn’t? Yet, the last five minutes clearly display evidence to the contrary. “I’d thought perhaps you’d come to your senses upon awakening.”
“I hope you grasp the reality of what you’re getting into.” A small, slightly self-depreciating smile before he reaches up to brush his fingers behind Lyle’s ear. Physical touch, he’s read, is soothing to Earthlings…not to mention he’s finding he rather likes it himself. “I believe almost everyone would warn you that I am hardly an ideal mate.”
“Sprock everyone!" Lyle says before Brainy can even finish speaking, their words blending together in the tiny room. He leans forward for emphasis into the small distance that had been made as they drew back from the kiss. Immediately, Lyle feels his tongue swell at the other’s expression, extending into the quiet, and balks openly at his own forwardness.
Too loud. Too passionate. Too much for something so new. He should know better.
The Terran blinks rapidly, trying so very hard to not let his gaze drop in sheepishness, but eventually, he loses the fight, dropping his head against the pillowing mattress under them and scowling down at it. Away from those green eyes. His ears feel hot. Could Brainy feel it? His hand is still lingering there, where he touched, barely brushing Lyle’s hair. There’s a dry patch in his throat that he clears awkwardly. “What would they know, anyways?” An outright pout is palpable in his tone. “Not about you.” He curls up his shoulders defensively. Mutters. “Not about me.”
How could anyone who protested understand, anyways? This was once in a lifetime! A once in a million chance. Brainiac 5 wanted him. Him! He was the exact opposite of Brainy’s consistent type. Statistically it made no sense. He wasn’t female. He wasn’t blond or strong, with lovely hips or delicate, inviting features. But despite all of that, despite all the data convincing with quite positivity this day would never come, here he was; Lyle Norg, tangled in sheets with his best friend. His heart racing with anxious disbelief. An anomaly. A brilliant, beautiful, heart-breaking anomaly. Couldn’t they see?
Sprock anyone who couldn’t.
"But… if you’re really concerned. About me. You know… not being sure. Don’t be." Lyle finally glanced up, through his damp bangs. "Might have made things a bit easier on me if I could be argued out of it. But… I can’t. Sorry.”
If years of longing, trying to nitpick every flaw, every rhyme or reason to let these feelings fade, it was hard to believe anything could.