TW: Xephos in lingere ;)

Title: ~Two Worlds~

“Xeph, have you seen my-” Honeydew’s voice valters, gruffness turning high at the end of his utterance when his beetle-like eyes fall on the body of his friend perched delicately on the edge of their shared bed. In an instant, the dwarf forgets what he was about to say as well as everything he had ever learned in his long and fruitful life, and his mouth turns suddenly dry. The iridescent blue blush across Xephos’ cheeks only darkens under Honeydew’s stare, a shy smile tugging at the alien’s lips and his fingers tightening their grip on the edge of the mattress. Xephos is very much aware of the fact that the lacy blue underwear that barely covers his privates is beginning to glow with the slight excretion from his largest tentacle; unsheathed and showing his anticipatory arousal between the pale lengths of his slender thighs.

“Hello, friend,” Xephos manages, a picture of shyness despite his alluring intentions. Honeydew doesn’t say anything, only walks up to the side of the bed and traces the line of Xephos’ thigh with his rough fingertips. Though his wiry, ginger beard obscures his face a little, Honeydew’s expression of pure, heated shock is clear to Xephos - having known him as long as he has. Reaching up to curl his long fingers around the non-broken horn atop Honeydew’s helmet, Xephos removes the headgear and bends slightly to place it on the night stand. “Is this okay?” Xephos’ voice is gentle, quiet, and when Honeydew’s eyes meet his own glowing orbs he can see love and incitement buried within their depths.

“This? This is very okay,” Honeydew’s voice cracks and distorts with withheld emotions, splits Xephos’ features with a handsome grin and coaxes the spaceman to reach up and cup the dwarf’s head in his hands - dipping to press what starts out as a chaste kiss to where he knows Honeydew’s mouth to be. The hand on Xephos’ thigh tenses when Honeydew’s teeth catch Xephos’ bottom lip, and Xephos can only relish the familiar feel of Honeydew’s coarse hair weaving around his fingers as he kisses him. The dwarf smells as he always does, of mead and earth, whilst Xephos’ mouth is a constellation of the brightest stars in the universe; of every supernova and swirling cluster of shimmering matter. Two worlds so, so far apart coming together in the union of these two unlikely lovers.

Lace is somewhat unfamiliar to the steadfast leathers and hides of the dwarves, and is far too human and unnecessary for the likes of Xephos’ otherworldly species, yet both can only agree that the aesthetics - especially when combined with the sheen of Xephos’ ethereal privates between the delicate patterns of the thin material - are pleasing. Of course, Honeydew remarks - both to himself and later, when the heat has become comfort and affection, out loud - the colour is nothing on the swirling blue of Xephos’ eyes.