Jedao nuzzles the back of Eiffel's neck, drops nibbling kisses on his shoulders. "My crashhawk," Jedao whispers, sounding elated and haggard at the same time. One hand grips tight on Eiffel's hip, new fingerprint bruises to match the set on his thighs, while he uses the other to line himself up, sinking into him with a deep, needy groan.

He feels electrified, like he might frission apart into ash and light at the edges. "Feel so good," he gasps against Eiffel's skin, licks his sweat.