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The click-clack of footsteps reverberate through the empty corridors, steady and even against the tile. He’s wandering, but Gaelio does not feel lost. Vingólf is a much as home to him as the Bauduin residence or the Sleipnir in space. He knows these offices and hallways well, and now even the deepest bowels of Gjallarhorn headquarters have become explored territory.
It’s cold. It creeps Gaelio out. He only pauses momentarily before swiping his access card at the elevator. Stepping through its steel doors feels like entering an alternate reality. He punches in the code for the lowermost floor, his stomach doing a small flip as the elevator car jostles to life. The ride down is like descending down a rabbit hole.
Only the emergency lights are lit when Gaelio reaches the bottom and the doors slide open. This place feels like a tomb: spare and discarded mobile suit parts litter the storage cages of the facility. The air tastes stale, and everything is overcast in an unsettling, sickly green.
Even suspended and hunched over, the Graze is huge. It’s much larger than his Kimaris or any of the other Grazes in production. Gaelio wonders what use Gjallarhorn could have planned for such an imposing mobile suit. It looks like it’s waiting, an enchanted suit of armor listening for its master’s command.
It hasn’t changed. He depends on the life-support system.
Ein is in there.
Don’t you already have the answer?
It had been his decision.
Gaelio stops before the control panel, running a gloved hand across the monitor. He watches as the illuminated numbers and graphs fluctuate with regularity. His fingers hesitate over the panel. He could change everything—end it all—with one press of a button. A first and final command.
“Ein, are you awake?” Gaelio calls out, his voice low. No one is here but the two of them, but it feels wrong to speak above a whisper.
There’s a whirring as the Graze’s sensor turns on, a dot of muddy red in the dim light. “Specialist Major Gaelio, it’s late… What are you doing here?” The voice is slightly tinny with the amplification. It sounds wrong.
He grits his teeth. He’s still not used to it. Ein had always been more distant than warm—the result of years of enduring discrimination, constantly having to prove his place in a world that didn’t welcome him—but he had always been more open with Gaelio. There had been trust, a certain fondness. Warmth, even. Gaelio can’t feel any of that through the words coming out of the speakers.
It’s probably a stupid idea, but. He needs this. Everything is falling apart at his feet. He needs to know he made the right decision. “I’m coming in.”
“Wa-” The words are cut off as Gaelio hits the mute button on the control panel. Another flick and the cockpit unlocks with a hiss. He feels a little guilty for overriding the system, but if it had been an order, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable. Gaelio is Ein’s commanding officer, although here, standing in front of a towering combat unit disguised as a life-support system, Gaelio does not feel so commanding.
With the pull of gravity weighing him down, climbing up onto the Graze is harder than anticipated. His boots slide against the smooth metal, but he dares not to find a ladder or mess with the lift. He’s not supposed to be here. A great many things were not supposed to be. Gaelio wishes he could take Ein away, back to the Sleipnir. Back before this nightmare had taken place and claimed them both as prisoners. But there is no turning back time. He must face the consequences of his actions.
Carefully swinging himself onto the Graze’s shoulder, Gaelio stoops down and pries the hatch open before hoisting himself over. It’s dark in the cockpit, only the faintest blue illumination emanating from the internal monitors.
Although Gaelio’s body blocks most of it, Ein still squints at the flood of light. What’s been done to him is more inhuman than the man himself: what’s left of Ein’s body has been strapped and wired into place within the mobile suit. A headpiece fastened around his neck, metal securings where his arms and legs used to connect, three large plugs of the Alaya-Vijnana system like syringes hanging off his spine. His body has become so pale that the skin is almost translucent. Gaelio can see the network of veins running blue underneath its delicate covering.
There’s a heaviness in his heart at the sight of Ein that Gaelio will never be able to lift.
Blue eyes constrict then dilate back to normal. They are a darker shade than Gaelio’s own. Carta used to say his were the blue of the sky, since he had his head in the clouds so much. Ein’s are deeper, like the depths of the ocean—there are things about Ein that Gaelio will never know. Gaelio had wanted to show Ein the sea when they had arrived on earth, but Ein had come in a medbay capsule, instead.
Better than in a body bag.
He reaches out and touches Ein’s cheek. It’s still soft. It gives under pressure. His chest aches.
“Hi.” It’s so simple, it’s stupid.
Ein leans into Gaelio’s hand as much as he can—the headpiece does not allow for much movement. It’s as much of a safety precaution as it is a component of the Alaya-Vijnana system. “Hi,” he returns, “You should be sleeping.” The voice, though slightly scratchy, sounds less mechanical. More personal. More like Ein. Gaelio is glad.
“I got lonely.”
It’s simple. It’s stupid. It’s the truth.
Black is the color of my true love's hair
“A ride-along?” Ein blinks at Gaelio’s suggestion. “But we just got back,” he says, cradling his helmet in his hands. His hair sticks up at odd angles in the back. Gaellio wants to reach out and ruffle it, but the hangar is full of crewmen, and there are many eyes upon them.
“Yeah. I was watching the battle footage from earlier. You haven’t had much time piloting a Commander Type Graze yet, so there are some things I want to show you.” Gaelio looks up at the two docked mobile suits. They’re operational, but they both still need further repairs from their clash with Tekkadan. “Even just now during the practice run, I could tell you were uncomfortable. Your moves weren’t as fluid, and your steering was off-formation.”
Pink slowly creeps up Ein’s neck, up to the back of his ears. His jaw tenses. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he quickly stammers.
Gaelio claps him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be. It would be unfair of me to send you out into battle like this. This Schwalbe was customized for me, after all. I expected you to need some time to adjust to it, even with the reconfigurations.” He straps his helmet back on and lifts off. “C’mon. I’ve already gotten it cleared with the captain. I think they’re just about done with the resupply.”
His lips are something rosy fair
The scene often replays in his dreams. Kimaris’s visuals go dark as Ein’s suit covers him: a first, and then a moment of déjà vu.
One: the hurling of a battle axe. I did something unnecessary.
Two: A flash. Light too bright to see anything. The point of his own lance soaring towards him, filling his vision as it draws near. I can’t leave you to die.
They say three’s a charm, but Gaelio is certain Ein wouldn’t survive saving him another time. The first two instances had been luck enough. A third time would probably spell victory for Tekkadan.
At times, he’s the one underwater, trapped in the medbay unit next to Ein’s without a ventilator. Sickly yellow water fills his nose and pushes its way inside down his throat. He gags, a sea of bubbles escaping his mouth. Gaelio claws at the capsule, beats against the glass, but no one comes. In the pod beside him, Ein does not stir.
He wakes before he drowns, alone and covered in sweat, McGillis’s words echoing in his ears.
Thank you, my friend. Gaelio had bitten those words out, feeling hollow to his core.
He’s not certain what to be thankful for, anymore. Ein is alive, due to the choice he’d made. There really hadn’t been a choice—between life or death, Gaelio will always choose life. It had been a selfish act. But if their positions had been reversed, would Ein have kept him alive, too? Or would the weight of the decision have granted Gaelio release from a failing body?
Don’t you want to save Ein?
McGillis had already known the answer.
The ejected cockpit had looked so small cradled within Kimaris’s hands—Ein had always seemed so small in comparison. Gaelio had been so afraid he could crush the crumpled metal pod further.
Yellow clouds with blue. Deep. Deeper. Into black. His lungs are full of salt. His legs cannot move; they are weighted down. He sinks. There is light above him. He cannot surface.
Breathe.
The sweetest smile, the kindest hands
It’s dark in the hangar when they return to the Sleipnir; they’ve been out for hours.
“Got the hang of it?” Gaelio asks as he removes his helmet. His neck and forehead are sweaty. Although the cockpits have temperature regulation, their suits aren’t made of the most breathable material. It’s a compromise: a little bit of discomfort in exchange for better shock protection.
“Yes, thank you very much,” Ein says as he powers down the Schwalbe, their surroundings growing dim as each menu and screen blinks off and the emergency lights slowly turn on. “I feel a lot more at ease with the controls now.”
“Is that so?” A grin spreads across Gaelio’s mouth. They’re alone. No one’s around to watch them. “I bet I could help you feel even more ‘at ease’ at this very moment.” He slides a palm over the top of Ein’s thigh, outer hip to inside knee, squeezing lightly.
Ein quirks an eyebrow.
Gaelio’s grin shows teeth. He uses the hangar’s decreased gravity to easily swing around onto Ein’s lap. Ein makes a noise as Gaelio lands, but his hands automatically catch onto Gaelio’s sides. “You trying to tell me I’m fat?” Gaelio accuses, his hands falling atop Ein’s shoulders. He bounces and shifts his weight back purposely for emphasis.
It makes Ein laugh. There’s a sparkle to his eyes. Gaelio feels a fluttering. “I fetch all of your snacks for you, Mr. Specialist Major. I know everything about your eating habits.”
Gaelio frowns, his lower lip jutting out just slightly. “I’ll have your know I can bench press you. With Earth’s gravity,” he pouts.
“I need proof,” Ein smirks, “You’ll have to demonstrate sometime.”
Gaelio leans in. Inhales. Kisses Ein’s jaw. “I’ll take you there someday,” he whispers into Ein’s ear, eliciting a shiver. “I’ll show you the sunrise over the ocean, birds soaring across the sky, green meadows full of blooming flowers.” He draws back and smiles. “But first things first,” Gaelio says as he grasps the front zipper pull of Ein’s suit and tugs, revealing faintly-tanned skin mottled by smatterings of dark purple. Ein hisses as Gaelio ghosts fingertips over his still-bruised and bandaged ribs.
“Not wearing an undershirt, I see,” Gaelio teases, “Naughty.”
Ein looks away. “All the chafing from the fabric was undoing the dressings.”
“All the better for me,” Gaelio hums, his mouth closing over a nipple.
“Specialist Major,” Ein gasps, his hand threading through Gaelio’s hair, “we shouldn’t—what if someone catches us—it’s improper-”
Gaelio releases him only to stop Ein’s protests with his lips. “At ease, Second Lieutenant,” he commands as they break apart. Ein’s breath hitches. “The maintenance crew have orders not to touch my units unless I’ve specifically asked for their services. We’ll be fine.” His hands continue to roam, gently prodding, testing the sensitivity of Ein’s recuperating body.
“So am I to ‘service your unit,’ then?” Ein says flatly, but the corner of his mouth is starting to twitch.
“If that’s what you want,” Gaelio sits back and laughs. He pulls the zipper down the rest of the way and rubs at the hardening bulge between Ein’s legs. “Looks like this wants to play, though.”
I love the grass whereon he stands
“They’re right there, Ein!” Gaelio sighs into his glass. It’s his fourth of the night, and his head is starting to feel fuzzy. “I know it’s all politics and protocol, but fuck, we could get them if they’d just let us out of here.”
“Sir,” Ein replies. A hiccup. His face is already flushed. He’s starting to slouch at the opposite corner of the couch, his glass cradled within his hands on his lap.
“I knew you’d understand,” Gaelio mumbles, leaning over to the table to collect the decanter of scotch and pour himself a refill. “Here, your cup,” he offers, holding out the bottle. The golden liquid sloshes with a jolt.
Ein’s eyes slide over to Gaelio after a pause. “Oh,” he says, pulling himself up. He looks around before realizing he’s already holding his glass and shakily lifts it up.
Gaelio overfills it. There’s not much left in the bottle. It doesn’t matter. There’s another lying around in this place somewhere…
He sighs again. Takes a long sip. “I’m just sick of being cooped up in here, not being allowed to do anything. This is my family’s vessel, anyway,” he leans back and throws an arm over the back of the couch.
Ein leans forward, cocking his head to the side and staring at him unabashedly. “What?” Gaelio barks. He’s being studied. He’s too drunk for this.
“Are you pouting?” Ein moves closer. His gaze is so intensely blue.
“No-”
“You are!” Ein sputters into a laugh, nearly tipping his glass over. “Sir,” he corrects, still laughing. It’s a nice sound, despite its aim. He looks so much less stern when he smiles.
“Whatever,” Gaelio grumbles into his cup, feeling heat creep up his neck. He closes his eyes and takes a gulp of the scotch, feeling it burn down his throat. He feels nice and warm all over. They’ll both regret this tomorrow, but for now, it’s a temporary escape. At least they’re in his private quarters, where no one can see this display of behavior unfit for commissioned officers.
What a lousy time for McGillis to be on vacation. Gaelio wonders if he would’ve had to have played politics had McGillis been the one making the request to sortie. The Bauduin family may be the wealthiest of the Seven Stars, but with Carta under the custody of Iznario, the Fareed family has significant influence. Well, at least this way, Almiria can spend some more time with the person she’s to wed. She’s his baby sister, yet Gaelio has a feeling McGillis may know her better than he does. He can feel himself frowning. He’ll have to make plans to take her out the next time he’s on Earth...
There’s a weight on his thigh; he’s been lost in his thoughts. When Gaelio opens his eyes, Ein is very close.
“Specialist Major,” he says. Gaelio blinks. Ein closes the space between them. There’s a soft warmth against his lips.
It’s nice.
It’s their first kiss, but not the last of the night. The scotch tastes differently on Ein’s tongue—somehow a bit sweeter, the sting of the alcohol mellowed. Gaelio wonders if the same is true for him. He won’t ask. Asking means talking, which means whatever is happening will stop. So he closes his eyes and enjoys the act for what it is, hoping that Ein wouldn’t pass it off as a mistake in the morning.
He doesn’t. Instead, Ein kisses Gaelio in greeting as they untangle themselves from the heap they’d ended the night as on the couch. His smile is so shy, yet so brazen.
It makes Gaelio happy.
I love my love and well he knows
The light leaves them as Gaelio closes the hatch behind him. Everywhere is a soft blue haze, making Ein’s eyes seem like they’re glowing. “I didn’t take you for the type to get lonely,” Ein says.
“Then what kind of type do you think I am?” Gaelio asks with interest.
Ein pauses. Licks his lips. Gaelio wonders if Ein has to eat—if he can still eat—or if nutrition is pumped into his body like gasoline into an engine. Just how connected are man and machine? “You’re the type that’s always surrounded by people. They’re attracted to you. It’s hard to imagine you spending many moments alone.”
“You can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely,” Gaelio counters with an ease to his voice that he hasn’t heard in a while. “And you? Does this mean you’re attracted to me?”
It’s not a laugh, but something like it escapes from Ein’s mouth. “Are you really going to make me answer that?”
There is comfort in this banter, in hearing Ein’s voice. It’s as though they can escape from their sad circumstances, build a mirage of normalcy around a situation so absurd that it’s hard to call reality. Gaelio can feel himself smiling and meaning it, not like the empty, lifeless imitations he now wears outside.
“Of course I want to hear your answer,” Gaelio teases, stepping closer. He pulls off his gloves and tucks them into his pocket, encircling his arms around Ein’s shoulders. It’s a little unsettling to have to look upward to Ein. “So?” he says, staring directly into Ein’s eyes, holding them.
“I am one of the many,” Ein admits, not breaking their gaze.
Gaelio leans in, bumping their noses together. Ein’s skin is so much colder than what is considered healthy for a human. “‘One of many,’ but the only one who matters,” Gaelio grins.
This time, Ein does look away. “Even like this?”
He should feel disgusted at the sight of this aberration. Their whole society has been conditioned to condemn the unnatural union of human and technology. But Gaelio can only see Ein. Ein, young and beautiful and brave and alive. Captivatingly alive.
For someone who has never had a problem talking with people, Gaelio finds himself without words to say. So instead he voices his answer through action, tilting his head to bring their lips together. He moves them slowly, gently, feeling the resistance of flesh and the roughness of chapped skin. Ein is quick to reciprocate, falling easily back into their flow.
But it would be unfair to demand Ein to answer while not giving him the same in return. Gaelio holds Ein close. Cups the back of his head. Breathes in. Ein doesn’t smell the same anymore. It’s like there’s no scent to him now, nothing distinct or familiar. Guilt claws at Gaelio’s chest; there’s no way to fix this. “I don’t care what you look like or what you’ve become. You’re my precious Ein.”
Gaelio smiles. “Did you know?” Ein looks up. “Hundreds of years ago, there used to be a language called German. It originated from what is now the western part of the African Union. But it along with other languages died out after the Calamity War; they only exist in old texts. And in German, ‘ein’ meant ‘one.’ So you are my one, my one of a kind.”
“Specialist Major…”
“Gaelio,” he corrects. “It’s just the two of us here. You can drop the formalities.”
“You say that like it’s easy,” Ein laughs. “It’s not, especially when you’re still dressed in your uniform.”
Gaelio looks down at himself. “Is that what’s stopping you? I can easily remedy that problem,” he looks back up and grins, tugging at the collar of his jacket.
“No!” Ein quickly interjects, “You know what I mean. Besides, I like it on you.”
“That a turn-on for you? A man in a uniform?” Gaelio can’t help himself. There’s actually some color to Ein’s complexion now, courtesy of embarrassment. Drawing Ein out of his fortressed heart hadn’t been easy, but Gaelio had delighted in seeing new expressions blossom across Ein’s face, getting to fluster the usually strait-laced soldier.
“Just one man in particular in a uniform.”
“Is that so,” Gaelio crosses his arms and thumps the pad of his index finger against his lips. He looks Ein up and down, letting his gaze trail languidly and purposefully.
Gaelio does not know the extent of Ein’s damage. The medbay had shielded most of his body from view. The one time Gaelio had seen Ein’s body in the aftermath, it had been covered with dark blood, bits of splintered bone rising like branches from flesh, mangled limbs shining with shrapnel bits, and empty spaces where mass used to be. The body before him is surprisingly still firm and solid, muscle starting an inevitable fight which will only lead to a loss against atrophy. Gaelio guesses that the doctors had taken Ein’s arms and legs once the surgery had been approved and Ein had been rushed into the operating room.
I had lost my pride, but you...you gave me the legs that allowed me to rise again.
Ein is mistaken. Gaelio has effectively cut off his legs—more than that. This is a direct consequence of his choice.
He’s caged him.
“Gaelio,” Ein calls, pulling him out of his trance, “stay with me.” The words are so light, so warm with affection. Gaelio knows what Ein’s small reassuring smile means, but in that moment, he decides.
I love the grass whereon he goes
It’s a challenge to stay on his knees without the assistance of gravity, but the hushed gasps slipping out of Ein’s lips are worth it. “Do you like it?” Gaelio asks despite fully knowing the answer, his right hand stroking at the base of Ein’s erection while he mouths at the head.
“Yes...sir…” Ein breathes out between pants. Always so dutiful, but that’s something endearing about him. He has one palm clasped across his mouth and nose, his other hand running through Gaelio’s hair. It’s funny: despite Ein clinging to their differences in station, he gently pulls on a lock of hair or lightly pushes Gaelio’s head down further, silently leading. Gaelio kind of likes it.
Ein tastes of the tang of sweat. He’s usually the type that likes to shower beforehand. Even more so than their location, this newness excites Gaelio. He closes his eyes and focuses on the varying flavors of salt, of the uneven texture of skin and swollen veins, of regulating his own movements—both to please Ein and to prevent the discomfort that comes with breathing while doing this.
It’s easy to lose track of time, Ein’s muted soundtrack driving him along and providing Gaelio guidance. His mind succumbs so much to the sensations that Gaelio doesn’t realize how far gone Ein already is: there’s a high gasp, and then Gaelio’s mouth fills with warm, viscous fluid.
“I’m so sorry!” Ein rushes to say, wiping the bit of cum that has dribbled down Gaelio’s bottom lip. “I should’ve—you don’t—it just-”
“-Was too good?” Gaelio interrupts him, swallowing the mouthful with a small grimace. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, grabbing the back of Ein’s neck and roughly pulling him down to his level for a kiss. Ein’s lips are tightly pursed, as though denying himself as penitence, but with enough pressure and teasing, his resolution easily melts. Ein’s eyes are glassy and his breath is heavy when they pull apart. So open, so vulnerable. Gaelio wonders if anyone else has ever seen Ein this way. He grins upward, “You know all of my ‘eating habits,’ after all.”
Ein blushes darkly. A selfish part of Gaelio really hopes that he’s the only one to see Ein like this.
Rising, Gaelio pulls the zipper of his own pilot suit down, stripping off the arms and his undershirt and pushing the suit down to his hips. He leans in, softly bites down on a collarbone, its rise so prominent under Ein’s neck. Drags his tongue up the column of Ein’s throat, teeths at the tender lobe of Ein’s ear. “Turn around,” he whispers, receiving a small nod in reply.
On his knees on the seat, now facing its back with his suit pulled down below his thighs, Ein clutches onto the headrest for stability. Gaelio slides his hands down Ein’s broad shoulders, applying pressure, dragging fingertips down shoulder blades and ribs, finding a home just above hip bones. Every slight reaction is a gift. Ein breathes deeply, evenly. Waits.
Gaelio climbs up onto the seat, arranging himself around Ein. Plants a kiss at the valley of Ein’s spine, just between the shoulder blades. His hands gently pinch and release at Ein’s sides. Reach around to slowly stroke at Ein’s cock. “You ready?”
Another short nod.
He sucks in a breath and carefully pushes himself in. Ein is still loose from the night before, which makes this easier. He probably wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. The seat cushion dips and rises with his movement. Gaelio pulls Ein’s hips back toward him and presses his chest against Ein’s back. Ein’s skin feels like there’s fire underneath. Plastic and metal creak as they join and separate. Sweat rolls down skin as the air in the cockpit becomes heavy.
If he no more on earth will be
At first glance, there is nothing special about Second Lieutenant Ein Dalton. He is of average height and build, so there is no physical imposition to his presence. He is quiet and reserved. He is highly deferential and does not usually speak first unless spoken to. His face, pale and framed by a shock of black hair cut to meet military regulations, is not that memorable. In all, he carries all the trappings of an obedient soldier.
Cannon fodder.
The only thing remarkable about him are a pair of bright blue eyes that burn with a cold flame.
Gaelio doesn’t know exactly why he’d agreed to make Ein his direct subordinate. Perhaps it was the other’s insistent devotion to a fallen comrade that had sparked something within Gaelio. Soldiers die all the time; it’s part of the job. They are but cogs within a greater structure and easily replaced. One mourns, honors, and moves on.
Ein has not moved on.
Originally, Gaelio had had second thoughts about his decision. He’d thought Ein to be stark and dour: a small shadow who’d provided rather boring company. He couldn’t even get Ein to entertain him with stories, let alone open up enough to have simple conversations past work. Ein had been like a tightly-wound ball of wire, prickly and impervious.
But his work had been exemplary. Ein had proven himself to be reliable and thoughtful, diligent where other soldiers would slack. Gaelio could bounce ideas off him and count on him to offer a perspective Gaelio might not have considered.
In their short time together, with McGillis off on his own, Gaelio had come to depend on Ein. And more than that, Gaelio had wanted to help and support Ein, to become worthy of the respect he had been given.
In that, Ein is irreplaceable. All of Gjallarhorn could burn to the ground, but as long as Ein remains beside him, Gaelio is certain his world would continue to turn.
‘Twill surely be the end of me
It wouldn’t make sense for Ein to be grafted directly into the Graze: should anything happen to the mobile suit, there would need to be a mechanism in place to transfer the operator’s body into a new unit. Gaelio quickly scans the bearings that keep Ein secure within the cockpit, ignoring Ein’s confused promptings. “Ah, there it is,” Gaelio says as his eyes catch the hidden latch; he leans behind and pops it, unhooking Ein at the base.
The metal seal releases with a hiss, and Gaelio casts it aside. Darkly-scarred skin is revealed, welts crisscrossing in erratic patterns, ending in two short stumps cut just above mid-thigh. A low whistle escapes through his teeth. He reaches out, pauses just before he makes contact, then stretches out again and feels the remains of Ein’s legs. It’s a series of rifts and vales, tight crests where the skin is tough. Ein squeezes his eyes shut. His eyebrows are pinched and he’s biting the side of his mouth. “I knew they didn’t take all of you,” Gaelio murmurs as his hand travels low and cups in-between.
Ein’s adam’s apple bobs. His eyes are still resolutely shut.
“Hey,” Gaelio whispers, drawing close. He presses a kiss to Ein’s temple, then down to his mouth. Ein’s eyes flutter open. “Do you remember-”
“Of course,” Ein says before Gaelio has a chance to complete his sentence, his eyes alight, “How could I forget?”
Gaelio chuckles. “What do you say, then,” he murmurs into Ein’s neck. Gives a small squeeze.
Ein hesitates. Looks away. “I don’t even know if-”
“Only one way to find out,” Gaelio says, almost sing-song. He carefully drops to his knees, Ein watching all the while, gravity easily pulling Gaelio down to the floor of the cockpit. Despite the missing appendages and swaths of scarred skin, Ein is still whole here. Gaelio gently takes grasp, slides his hold down, curves his fist over the smooth head. Drags his hand back down to the base. Ein shudders, his bare stomach expanding and contracting with each measured breath.
“It’s been a while, huh.” Back and forth, feeling Ein’s cock begin to swell under his hold. “I’m glad I can at least do this for you.”
“Spe-”
“Gaelio,” he corrects again, tucking a fallen lock of hair behind his ear. Gaelio takes Ein into his mouth, senses alert to detect any discomfort from his partner. He takes Ein’s silence as permission to continue.
Ein tastes different. It’s not like his scent, which is barely detectable. It’s hard to describe: as though the flavor is diluted, the life support system irrevocably altering the chemistry of Ein’s body. Gaelio grasps onto Ein’s hips as his mouth works, chasing after memory. Trails back to grasp at Ein’s ass and kneads at the softness found there. He misses the feeling of Ein’s hands, of fingers massaging at his scalp. The last time they had done this, Gaelio’s head had been shielded on either side by Ein’s thighs, warm and muscular. Calloused hands had stroked at his hair, rubbing at the roots, applying a slight pressure. A tender gesture that Gaelio had delighted in.
Now nothing but air surrounds Gaelio. Emptiness. Ein is here, but parts of him are missing. This suit may make for a body of armor, but it is not a body. But whole or not. Ein is still here, and that is a blessing.
He runs the flat of his tongue underneath the shaft, lightly drags the faintest hint of teeth upward. Works the tip against the hollow of his cheek until saliva begins to collect in his mouth. Slides a finger into the cleft of Ein’s ass and rubs the pad of a fingertip over his entrance. Recalls to memory everything that Ein had enjoyed before. Above him, Ein attempts to control his breathing, monitor readings flickering around him. Gaelio wonders what it must feel like to have nothing to hold onto.
His efforts are so concentrated that the sound of Ein’s voice almost has him reeling back. “Sp-Specialist Major, please, I’m going to-”
Gaelio releases Ein but still keeps a hold on his cock, lazily stroking. He swallows and rubs his lips on the back of his hand. “What is it? If you’re worried about that, it’s alright.”
“No,” Ein objects, “I also want to-” He looks down to between Gaelio’s legs, where his own desire is evident. “Let me…”
The cockpit’s equipment makes for awkward footholds. Gaelio has his feet braced upon control panels on either side of Ein, his hands grasping onto valves that are surely not meant for handlebars. A tremor thrums underneath Gaelio’s skin at the thought of Ein’s touch—it seems like an eternity since Gaelio has felt it. Since Ein cannot move, Gaelio fucks Ein’s mouth instead. He pushes past Ein’s parted lips, the wetness of Ein’s mouth and the smoothness of Ein’s tongue sending a jolt throughout his body. Ein has his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, and carefully keeps his jaw slack as Gaelio slides in and out. Gravity hangs on Gaelio’s shoulders like a rucksack, heavy and insistent. One false move could spell disaster for them both.
This whole situation is so pitifully laughable. Just get him back to normal, Gaelio had demanded. This is anything but normal.
He slows his thrusts, deliberately letting Ein know that he’s stopping. Ein holds on until Gaelio has completely left him, then opens his eyes. Gaelio can barely see the blue in them.
“Gaelio?” Ein questions in a daze as Gaelio steps down and reaches behind Ein’s head to remove his headset.
Gaelio runs his thumb across Ein’s lips, wiping away the drool at the corners. He cups Ein’s jaw and, even though it’s a dumb request, leans forward to whisper into Ein’s ear, “I want to be inside you. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Ein breathes. The color in his face makes him look so alive.
Ein’s body does not resist as much as it had before the incident. The muscles loosen more easily, as though Ein’s body has been so starved of affection that it’s been awaiting this moment. “Are you alright?” Gaelio asks as he prepares Ein, working his fingers already knuckle-deep.
A soft sheen of sweat rolls down Ein’s chest. Gaelio swipes his tongue up Ein’s sternum; even this is a muted taste. “Please…” Ein utters, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip.
Sex is easier this way. Although Gaelio cannot draw close, he can bend Ein’s body toward him, and the height is just enough for Gaelio to reach him. He keeps one hand on Ein’s hip, the other clutching onto the panel next to Ein’s shoulder. This is the second time they have done this in this manner, although this time, they face each other. Take in all that they are, all that they have become. Now, Gaelio is the one holding onto the mobile suit, and Ein’s back—once strong and undamaged—has been riddled by imposing implants.
But Gaelio can’t find it within himself to care. Everything and nothing is different. His feelings are unchanged. Gaelio tongues at Ein’s neck, bites at the juncture. Kisses Ein deeply as he fucks him, the feeling of being inside Ein—the tightness, the heat, the familiarity—fanning the fervor building within his gut. Allows himself to be loud, so that Ein can hear the desire Gaelio still carries for him.
Gaelio has never felt so disconnected from the world. So connected to one person.
Their boundaries begin to blur. Gaelio feels as though he’s falling into Ein: the exchange of atoms, lost in the flow of the universe, outside the fabric of time.
He can’t see. It’s almost like-
Gaelio awakens with his forehead resting on Ein’s chest, his knees trembling, and both of them gasping for air. He closes his eyes. Inhales. Exhales. Listens.
Knock, knock, knock.
Like he’s pounding on death’s door.
To give up being human… It can be said that this world was built on that very choice.
Why this, why now? Gaelio burrows his face against Ein further, holding onto the other as tightly as he can. He lifts a weak fist and bumps it on Ein’s chest, a bubble of hysterical laughter choking out from his throat. “Your heart still beats, too…” His face twitches; bitter, hot tears stream down his cheeks before he has a chance to stifle them.
You do understand, right, Gaelio? This is for Ein, and also for us.
How could this have been for Ein? How are either of them the winners in this? How is this the key to reforming Gjallarhorn?
“This isn’t what I wanted for you,” Gaelio mumbles into Ein’s chest. He can’t bring himself to look at Ein yet.
“But I’m happy all the same. Please don’t cry.” Ein’s voice is so gentle, so soft. It’s more than Gaelio deserves.
Silence wraps them up. This isn’t how Gaelio wanted this to be. There’s still so much he wants to tell Ein, so much he needs to say. He doesn’t know how, not with Ein like this, not with so great a transgression stained on his hands. He knows they don’t have time; he wishes they were both still in space, surrounded by a million twinkling lights, away from the world’s reach.
But Gaelio had been born on Earth. Ein had been born on Mars. Gaelio has become one of the ghosts who pull those in space back to the mother’s corpse.
“You should get some sleep,” Ein says, breaking the silence. He bends his neck just enough to kiss the top of Gaelio’s forehead. “The operation will start tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Gaelio says as he reluctantly pries himself away. He tucks himself back in and adjusts his clothing, runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. Reattaches Ein’s headset and locks his body back into the base. Pauses before him; takes all of him in. Gaelio wonders how his chest can feel so hollow yet so burstingly full. He leans forward to capture Ein’s lips once more. Ein’s eyes close just as they meet. It’s very sweet, still like the first time. “I’ll see you on the battlefield, then.”
Ein slowly opens his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
He doesn’t turn around as he exits the cockpit. Climbing down cautiously, Gaelio jumps back to the platform and approaches the Graze’s control panel, turning the sound back on. He gazes up at the mobile suit. It really is quite remarkable.
The sensor still glows. Ein still watches.
Gaelio gives a small smile—it’s all he can muster at the moment. He turns and walks back to his room, his footsteps loud and steady like the heart inside the machine.