Work Text:
Lord Phobos and Commander Meouch did not get along.
It was as simple as that, really.
Lord Phobos blamed Commander Meouch for the downfall of his planet and death of everyone he knew and loved. Pretty standard rivalry stuff. Though Meouch would heavily attest that he had no say in the tragic events. Regardless of anything Meouch could possibly say for himself, Phobos wanted the man dead.
So that was his goal for a minute there. He would take up a vow of silence in honor of his people, only to be broken when Meouch had fallen by his hand. He followed Meouch across various galaxies and made several attempts to kill him. He followed him to sleazy jazz clubs, to planets he had never heard of, even to Meouch’s home planet of Felinari. Rain or shine. Crowd of onlookers or just the two of them. Meouch was on the run from the worst thorn in his side he had ever experienced.
It was on Felinari that they met Doctor Sung. Don’t ask Phobos or Meouch how it happened. Something about Sung put people in a trance, he could convince anyone to do anything with enough charisma.
So now Meouch and Phobos found themselves here. On this ship with a cyclops and his robot who was also asked super nicely not to wring any necks. Time and place was a touchy subject on this ship. They always seemed to go to bed in one dimension and wake up in another. But lately they had been settled on Sung’s current obsession: Planet Earth.
Though nobody was certain just how long Meouch and Phobos were cornered together, it had been at least half of an Earth year since their last major fight. The gang was making great strides in learning to get along, though Sung was still needed as a mediator. Phobos signed to express himself. Meouch couldn’t be bothered to learn how to sign. Though he had picked up on some of the jabs Phobos threw his way. Why should he waste his time learning? Phobos could talk! He was just stubborn!
Tensions remained high.
But nevertheless the crew worked together to live in something resembling harmony. Sung had things to do though, and couldn’t be expected to babysit his new recruits all the time. Today he gave his usual spiel about behaving while he and Havve stepped away for a mission of some sort.
He kindly asked Meouch and Phobos to stay in their respective boarding rooms while he was away. At the very least to avoid being in the same room together alone.
“Remember, guys- always practice empathy and understanding!” Doctor Sung always reminded.
Rolled their eyes, Meouch and Phobos always did.
Those kinds of statements didn’t do much for two who blamed each other for ruining their lives.
The two usually avoided being in the same room at the same time. They didn’t want to unless they wanted to kill each other. But instead of being in his room today, Lord Phobos resided in the ship’s kitchen. He was polishing his helmet at the kitchen’s counter, since he felt he had enough privacy to breathe without it for a moment.
Meouch came into the kitchen in search of a drop of alcohol. Anything at all. If Sung wouldn’t allow him to smoke onboard he should at least be able to have a drink. He pretended not to see Phobos at first while he rummaged through cabinets. Though he did keep him in the corner of his eye. He tried not to leave his back too turned out of habit.
But he couldn’t help but stare.
Only a few times had Meouch seen the other man’s face devoid of his golden helmet. An enchanting sight. Phobos’ face told his story well. His solid off-white eyes captured the saddened soul of a prince who had lost his kingdom. Tiny scars littered his otherwise even skin, some old and others from Meouch himself.
Phobos’ face had a soft glow across his cheeks, neck burning hot with the feeling of being stared into. He dropped his rag and frowned. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he turned his body towards Meouch. He threw a gesture his way. Meouch didn’t need to know how to sign to understand the ‘what-are-you-looking-at’ attitude.
“I’m not doing anything. Turn back around,” he snarled.
The fallen prince blinked in offense, waving his hands around some more. Meouch rolled his eyes and interrupted the waving with a half-raised hand.
“You don’t have to do this quiet thing anymore. If you want to start talking and apologize for trying to kill me, you’re more than welcome.”
Phobos couldn’t believe what he was hearing, feeling hot with shaking hands. He swallowed thick to close his hanging jaw and quickly strided to close the distance between them.
Sung’s words echoed through Phobos’ mind while he practiced every ounce of self-control he had. He wouldn’t kill Meouch. Not right now, at least. But a little rough housing was on the table. If Sung caught them fighting they’d call it playing. Friends did that, and they were all friends here. Easy solution. With this excuse on standby, Phobos stared up at the Felinarian through his brow. Balling his fist, he made a swing into Meouch’s jaw.
With a hiss, Meouch cradled the side of his face.
“Son of a bitch!” he cried as he shoved Phobos back away from himself.
The fighting was a haze, hands flying in random directions and the two shoving each other around. They were admittedly not as talented fighters without weapons. Martial arts was Sung’s thing. The two were panting. The air in the room was hot and too thick for comfort. They were breaking a sweat.
Time came to a stop, as it usually did in this god forsaken place. With a loud thud, Meouch managed to pin down Phobos on the counter near his traditional helmet. The room fell silent aside from a bit of panting from both aliens. Meouch’s paw was wrapped around Phobos’ throat, daring him to make another move. His claws protruded and poked into his throat. He didn’t mean anything by it when he held Phobos’ hips down with his own. It was just to keep him from kicking. He wasn’t looking to win the war right now, just this one small battle.
The two squinted at each other and fury for a moment. But then both of their eyes widened. A terrifying discovery for Phobos, a hilarious discovery for Meouch.
Phobos was turned on.
Why this was happening was only half of a mystery to the both of them. But getting off on this damn ship with privacy was damn near impossible. Solo or not. Sung usually had some activity to rope his crewmates into with little time to prepare. It had been a while since either felt the weight of another body so close.
Phobos’ long hair framed his face and sprawled along the counter. His cheeks burned hot with an unruly mix of lust and anger. He hated Meouch so fucking much. But he was already here and pressed against him. What was the harm in making that stupid cat useful for once? Get off now, kill him later.
Funnily enough, Meouch was thinking the same thing about his sparring partner.
Kissing felt too intimate for enemies. Instead, Meouch opted to run his tongue along the side of Phobos’ neck. It was rough and gave Phobos chills. His cock twitched. Meouch sank his teeth into the soft skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel Phobos squirm. An evil smirk spread across the lion’s face.
“Is that what this was? If you want me so bad, just say so. We don’t have to play the long game, your majesty.”
Hips planted firmly together, Meouch
Phobos squirmed in a hollow attempt to free himself. Meouch’s mane was so close to his face he could taste his scent. Breathing him in was intoxicating. The scraping of teeth on his neck had him fighting back noises he shouldn’t be making towards his enemy. A few gasps escaped here and there. Meouch knew those sounds well; and they typically annoyed him. In battle, Meouch hated those sounds because Phobos was a pain in the neck. But hearing them under him like this had both of their cocks twitching now.
Meouch littered Phobos’ neck with bruises, some from the squeeze of his hand. He was slow to align their cocks and brush them against each other, teasing and deliberate with his speed.
“Don’t act so shy, Lord Phobos. If you want me to stop, just say so. Use your words,” the lion teased, hot breath hitting Phobos’ ear. The grooves of his tongue burned their way along Phobos’ jawline.
He pulled back to look Phobos in the eye. Phobos shot him an annoyed look, but did little to argue. He bit his tongue as a small (and rare) act of submission. Not to show any form of respect to Meouch, but so this damn cat would get on with it already.
“Fine, don’t talk. See if I care. Just make a little noise for me.”
Phobos wasn’t planning to cooperate, but Meouch angled his hips and drove their cocks together in a way that had him gasping. A wicked laugh came from Meouch.
Meouch hated Phobos, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t a selfish lover by any means. He still wanted Phobos to cum. He wanted to watch that fucker swallow his pride and drop the noble act. He wanted to watch the smaller alien succumb to him while his ego shattered. He needed to hear Phobos moan those familiar cries. Like a bad habit he just couldn’t shake.
The two rutted against each other, Meouch holding Phobos’ hips down with the weight of his own. The friction between their cocks wasn’t enough, it left them just desperate enough to keep trying for just a little more. The slight wet patch seeping through Phobos’ pants was the only sort of lubrication they had. It did little to nothing to diminish the sweet burn of the fabric.
Meouch’s left paw remained firmly on Phobos’ throat with the claw of his thumb still extended across the former knight’s jugular. The claw was half threat and half opportunity. A battle between ‘don’t move or I’ll kill you,’ and ‘please move so I can cut your pretty little throat.’ Phobos held on tight with both hands to the forearm holding his head down. Meouch’s right paw gripped the side of Phobos’ thigh. Fingers sinking into the thin layer of fat over muscle. The two were in perfect unison for the very first time, both panting and groaning in harmony. A delicious melody that made their ears ring. Made their faces burn. Filled their bodies with static.
“Fucking pathetic,” Meouch muttered through bared teeth. It was a projection hidden behind a smirk. His voice was gravelly and low. A show of how desperately he wanted to give into his primal instincts.
Phobos responded by spitting upwards into the lion’s face. With a smirk he continued wrestling with Meouch’s arm on his neck. It was in vain, of course. Meouch wasn’t going anywhere. They both knew that. The gesture only made Meouch tighten his grip, causing Phobos to freeze and gasp. He tensed up before relaxing into the touch with a sultry moan. He couldn’t move his hips into the friction, so he settled for arching his back and throwing his head back.
Meouch’s rhythmic thrusts had their heads swimming. Phobos tried to fight it- he really did. His enemy wasn’t supposed to see him like this. But the humiliation only added flame to his fire. With a final cry he gripped Meouch’s arm and held his way through his shameful climax. His now wet pants were a deadly combination with the electricity under his skin.
Meouch was practically drooling at the sight. The fur on the back of his neck was standing on end. He let go of Phobos’ leg with his right hand and used it to touch himself. Freeing his throbbing cock from his pants, he desperately jerked himself off. He basked with pride in the sight of Phobos’ bruised neck and sweat-dampened hair. His now wrinkled shirt exposing his torso. The wet patch around his cock. Meouch finally dropped Phobos’ throat to offer a thumb on his bottom lip instead. Still buzzing, Phobos circled the thumb with his tongue. The claw scraped sweetly against it. Meouch jammed his thumb into Phobos’ mouth to watch him suck. An image he’d be mentally saving for later.
With thoughts of his cock in Phobos’ mouth, he rattled off a few gasps and expletives as he finished himself off. He came with a growl on Phobos’ chest and stomach. His body fell limp afterwards, claws retracting and head hanging low as he caught his breath.
The two swallowed thick and awkwardly before making eye contact a final time. It was a bit much for the both of them, and suddenly eye contact was no longer on the table. Meouch removed his weight from Phobos’ body and put his cock away. He cleared his throat and took a step back.
“Clean yourself up. You look ridiculous.”
Phobos sat up on one hand and used the other to skim over his new wounds. He threw up a middle finger, his new favorite Earth gesture.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
cptsimmons Sun 05 May 2024 09:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
DIZZYCUPID Wed 15 Jan 2025 06:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
C0NTR4CEPT01N Wed 27 Nov 2024 06:52AM UTC
Comment Actions