Hi I have another one zhskzjalab 958 + Alpha-17 or Fordo ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
958 | asofterworld prompts
The captain of the 501st looks familiar.
Fox watches him over the rim of his glass. His brothers talk and laugh and drink around him, and now and then Thorn’s shoulder jostles him, Thire’s elbow brushes him. Fox’s hemmed between them, well on his way to being drunk, warm and comfortable, the liquor cold and sharp in his tongue and the trashy Rylpop song making his brain buzz and his heart vibrate inside his chest.
He feels soft and boneless and open, and he’s very aware of the way his SIC’s left hand keeps climbing up his thigh, playing with the inner seams of his uniform trousers. Now and then Thorn glances at him, quick, at Fox and away, the neon lights shining off the bleached blond curls. He’s testing the waters, trying to find out how far Fox will let him go.
He’s curious himself--he honestly doesn’t know.
There are many things Fox doesn’t know.
The captain of the 501st looks familiar. Fox watches him laugh and drink, surrounded by his men. He’s blond, the hair buzzed very short. The lights turn it blue, red, pink, yellow. Blue again.
His eyes find Fox across the crowded bar. For a beat, they stare at each other; the captain frowns, tilts his head.
