Cayde is so fucking wet, and so fucking hard.
He keeps his hands by his side, as instructed, but it's obvious how desperately the urge to touch himself fills him from the way his Light sears, contrasting against the calm, collected cool of Ikora's own Void. The thought of how his gear is gonna need cleaned doesn't even cross his mind.
"Please, 'kora, please," she hasn't even touched him yet and his voice is already laced with a haze of static overlay, "let me take my pants off at least?"
The normally-protective armour is now a makeshift prison, ever obvious by the way his cock strains against the material.
But his desperation for her isn't entirely dictated by his desire for pleasure, at least not wholly. Cayde had opened his heart to the world in the expectation that he would die on that day in the prison, the Guardian had found his stashes while he was cold 'n' out, and now everyone who has access to those logs knows.
Sure, that group of people is real small, but Ikora is one of them.
Things have been...awkward. At least for the past little while. Cayde likes to think he's good at reading others, but that's been proven wrong ten times over with all of those messages, and Ikora isn't a particularly open book to begin with.
Despite that, she seems to want to clarify exactly how she feels about him.
And that's why he's currently on his knees, hanging onto her every word, even more restless than he would normally be in this scenario. Cayde is desperate for her and her attention, her approval, her love.@explosivehead
she cannot speak of the emotions that rolled when cayde fell.
the ahamkara ensured that she would never feel as she once had. she has laughed far less since the day it crossed her path; she has forever remained a closed book. but ikora had believed if she could not express her emotions, then showing them was good enough. shared jokes between meetings, stolen moments after battle— they were how she bared her heart.
and yet it wasn't enough. that was perhaps the worst part of it all. as cayde healed, they all learned the truth. as he slept and recovered, ikora was forced to face the fact that her dearest friend believed she hated him. night after night, she replayed the message in her head. i never could tell if you liked me, time and time again, hoarse and filled with static. you probably killed me.
the void had nearly consumed her in that moment. she could not share outwardly the grief, the rage, the panic that consumed her, and so it turned inward. it gnawed at the meat of her ribs and bit into the wet flesh of her heart. it left her gasping and raw.
he had been her best friend, the only one capable of making her laugh— and he hadn't even known it.
so she stands over him now, clad in only her familiar purple robe, leather gloves, and a pair of knee-length boots. she holds her head high, chin lifted, so the only way to look at cayde is by cutting her eyes downwards. her lips press into a fine line. brows furrow, deepening the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes.
"i don't think you've earned it, cayde," murmurs his fellow vanguard. she steps forward, the click of her heels muffled by the office's carpet. "in fact, you haven't proven to me you deserve even the slightest reward for your behavior."
quick as an asp, her right leg kicks out, knee hooking over his shoulder. the sharp of her heel presses dangerously into his bare shoulder blades. her expression never falters.
