Another gasp escapes Carlisle, heavier this time as the chill of Glacius' armor contrasts sharply with the heat welling in him. His fingers curl into the fur beneath him, grabbing a handful of fibers as his other hand goes to the neck of his sweater, pulling desperately at the zipper that runs down the front of it. It allows his skin to breathe as he sucks in a breath -- sharper now -- his body quivering as Glacius' hand at his loins draws a shudder from deep within him.

But it's not just carnal desire he feels: there is something else there, what Carlisle recognizes belatedly as Glacius' affection for him, felt through the Mote he now bears. His body, still worn from being so restless in Glacius' absence, pulls upon it immediately, reflexively: he feels energy flooding him as though he were grasping the Mote itself, but now it radiates from within... and all around him, in tandem with his lover beside him.

Carlisle wants more -- he wants to be closer, no matter how impossible it may seem. Releasing the fur gripped between his fingers, he leans upward and into Glacius, one hand on the alien's pawing at him, the other reaching for Glacius' side, trying to find somewhere to rest as his frame shakes, giving in more and more to the lustful rhythm between them.

"I- hn." He licks his lips and tries again. "I feel you, even- even without the Mote present. Is that- is that how this is supposed to hhh be?"