Work Text:
It mattered not that it had begun to rain when his kin flooded through their astral portals. Or that more nautiloids than he had seen for eons darkened the skies above. It mattered not that it would take weeks to remove the smell of istik sewer from his skin. Or that only half his hearing remained and his face still stung from draconic claws.
He barely registered the orders given by the warrior wielding his silver, nor the rebel kith'rak that followed her. Qudenos was lingering nearby, impressing an urgency upon his mind to join the battle in the skies.
Voss ignored it. Another presence sought his mind and he wanted it to be all encompassing. Warmth and anger and power. And need. Orpheus waited, then stepped forward. A psionic touch, a whisper on his skin preceded the brush of fingers across the cheekbones so etched into his memory. Fingertips followed the gouges in his cheek, the ruined ear, through greying hair to rest on the back of his neck with a shiver.
A soft kiss pressed to his brow, holding the promise that they would survive this. A psionic grip and a shaking breath, millennia of emotion threatening to shatter them both. Orpheus pressed his forehead to Voss'. Not yet. For a little longer, they must be immovable.