[ Sometimes, Chris idly wonders if he's stepped into a dream.
Or maybe, more likely, the Enterprise has sailed into some alien culture's net, fallen unwitting prey to a society that can cast such strong illusions that one's deepest, darkest secret desires are made flesh right before them, casting such a tempting spell that even the strongest of wills can't resist. How else could he explain the sight of someone as beautiful as this lithe young man spreading himself out like a feast just for Chris to enjoy, his hips swaying playfully and toes curling against satin sheets, all but begging him to touch?
He really should be more careful. He knows what societies like the Talosians can do, what they're capable of. He remembers Vina.
But, just like with Vina all those years ago, he's weak in the face of such temptation, and he finds his hands lifting out to touch without regard for what his brain has to say on the matter.
Chris spends most of his life out in the darkness of space, beneath artificial lights. And yet, compared to the milky expanse of Loki's skin, Chris's hands look nearly tanned, sun-dark and hard like he's used to rough work and doesn't mostly just sit at a desk reading and writing reports. Sliding his hands up those hairless thighs, he lets himself look his fill, admiring the sight presented just for him. Digging his thumbs into the crease of Loki's ass, he spreads his cheeks and then just sits there, admiring that sight as well, the evidence of his hard work shining on Loki's relaxed hole.
When presented with such a feast, it would be rude not to partake fully, wouldn't it?
Yes. It would.
Curling his spine, Chris ducks down and drags the flat of his tongue across Loki's perineum and then up across his hole, savoring the salt-sweat taste of his skin. ]
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Or maybe, more likely, the Enterprise has sailed into some alien culture's net, fallen unwitting prey to a society that can cast such strong illusions that one's deepest, darkest secret desires are made flesh right before them, casting such a tempting spell that even the strongest of wills can't resist. How else could he explain the sight of someone as beautiful as this lithe young man spreading himself out like a feast just for Chris to enjoy, his hips swaying playfully and toes curling against satin sheets, all but begging him to touch?
He really should be more careful. He knows what societies like the Talosians can do, what they're capable of. He remembers Vina.
But, just like with Vina all those years ago, he's weak in the face of such temptation, and he finds his hands lifting out to touch without regard for what his brain has to say on the matter.
Chris spends most of his life out in the darkness of space, beneath artificial lights. And yet, compared to the milky expanse of Loki's skin, Chris's hands look nearly tanned, sun-dark and hard like he's used to rough work and doesn't mostly just sit at a desk reading and writing reports. Sliding his hands up those hairless thighs, he lets himself look his fill, admiring the sight presented just for him. Digging his thumbs into the crease of Loki's ass, he spreads his cheeks and then just sits there, admiring that sight as well, the evidence of his hard work shining on Loki's relaxed hole.
When presented with such a feast, it would be rude not to partake fully, wouldn't it?
Yes. It would.
Curling his spine, Chris ducks down and drags the flat of his tongue across Loki's perineum and then up across his hole, savoring the salt-sweat taste of his skin. ]