Londo runs his hand down G'Kar's chest until he encounters resistance, a place where the body folds over itself.
Curious, he slips a finger into the pouch, feeling gingerly along the edges. G'Kar is hot inside, damp, tight against Londo's finger. There are a series of little bumps inside, too, and when Londo brushes against them G'Kar squirms and growls.
"Does that – does that please you?" he asks, trying for bravado, or innuendo, or something more sexual than the ignorance and trepidation he feels. Londo's seen hundreds of political cartoons about Narns' sexual impotence, animalistic brutality, and barbaric perversity, but he has absolutely no idea what to do with one in bed. What to do with G'Kar in bed is an even more terrifying question.
G'Kar rolls his belly up against Londo's hand and makes a face, like a grimace. "Yes," he says. "It does. Go harder, Mollari, I am not made of delicate Centauri filament."
Londo scowls and immediately shoves three more fingers inside, so that only his thumb rests on the outer skin. The intrusion of his hand stretches the pouch outwards a little, and G'Kar sighs and goes rather boneless against the mattress. His thin robe falls open to reveal more of his broad, spotted chest, and Londo is taken aback for a moment by the strange smoothness of it. Centauri are hairier, and – and –
His fingers run against the little bumps again, earning twitches and gasps from G'Kar. "Great Maker, G'Kar," Londo hisses, "this is where you keep your nipples?"
In answer, G'Kar grabs Londo by the collar and pulls him down on top of him, kissing his mouth fiercely, hungrily. Londo kisses back, but only out of pure reflex, at least at first; being kissed by G'Kar is like being kicked in the shins, and Londo can't help but react, as he always reacts to G'Kar.
"Your ignorance is something of a relief, Mollari," G'Kar murmurs, between one breathless kiss and the next. "It tells me that you have never found employment as a Centauri pain technician."
Londo would take offence at that, but G'Kar has put his own hands to good use undoing Londo's shirt, and his brachiarti are beginning to writhe against G'Kar's hands, helpless against his light, teasing touches.
"Unnnggh," he says instead. "Do not call me Mollari in that fashion while in bed, it is most – most offputting," he gasps. "You cannot have sex with my entire House."
"Oh, but I would be happy to try. Have you any sisters?" G'Kar laughs, bringing one shuddering tentacle up to his mouth and sucking at the edge of the head.
"Yes," Londo replies, "and they are very like me." He slides himself in and out of G'Kar's mouth, rubbing against the surprisingly rough surface of his tongue.
"Pity, that," G'Kar mutters around his mouthful. Londo gives him an ironic smile, but it fades as G'Kar figures out how to insert his tongue below the sensitive folds on the underside of the head. Londo tangles his other brach up together, just to give himself a little friction in anticipation.
But then G'Kar pulls his mouth off far too quickly, making a little pop! noise as the tip slips from his lips and the suction ends. Londo hears himself groan, far too loud for this point in the proceedings.
"G'Kar," Londo sighs. His other five come up to rub enthusiastically at G'Kar's sides while the first one wriggles towards his lips. G'Kar pulls it in with his tongue, obviously delighted, and gives it another wet, sucking kiss.
"These are just lovely! What is your word for them again?"
"Brachiarti," Londo grits out, letting his third on his left side slip into G'Kar's pouch next to his fingers; G'Kar's eyelids flutter closed in pleasure.
"Ah," he gasps, "but that is a plural form, is it not? And rather formal. Are there not more . . . colloquial terms?" G'Kar has undone his robe, and his member is hot and hard against Londo's hip, pressing insistently, leaking fluid from the tip just as Londo's brachiarti are oozing from their pores.
"Pah," Londo manages, working a hand between them to stroke G'Kar tentatively. "And what do you know of Centauri grammatical forms?"
G'Kar's red and blue gaze is laughing, twinkling, the way it always is when he has the upper hand and is enjoying it to the hilt. His thighs flex beneath Londo's weight – Great Maker, but he is strong, Londo always forgets just how strong – and he flips them over easily, landing on top and dislodging Londo's various appendages from his anatomy.
"Ooof," Londo bellows, mostly for effect.
"I would bet that I know a good deal more Centauri grammar than you do Narn," he says, slipping two of Londo's brachiarti back into his pouch, then catching two more and slipping them down into the hot damp space between his thighs, as if instructing Londo to stroke him there too. He holds Londo's gaze all the while, brazen by Centauri standards, wanton. Londo has never felt quite so . . . manhandled, before, during sex. He takes a breath, overwhelmed by the sensation of G'Kar all around him, all over him. He rubs himself slowly against G'Kar's body, setting up a rhythm. "All those schools your people built on my planet to civilize us."
Londo bites down hard on G'Kar's collarbone; the skin is tough, smooth and resilient, but much hotter than any body Londo has known before. He finds he likes it, likes the roughness it requires. He wonders if G'Kar will handle him so roughly, too, treat him like a Narn. The idea is not unappealing.
"You never attended a colony school, you are far too young," Londo protests, working G'Kar harder with hands and brach, almost gnawing on the strong line of his jaw.
G'Kar slips his – what do Narns call it? – organ between Londo's thighs and begins to thrust down, steady and hard, slipping through to nudge against Londo's asshole.
"No," G'Kar admits, panting, bending his head to suck and kiss Londo's writhing brach almost reverently, "but your words did slip into our language, you know. Like little, mmmmmmm, traps, ready to spring at any moment from one's own mouth." He thrusts down again, eyes closing on the sensation, teeth closing on Londo's delicate equipment like another kind of trap. He doesn't bite down, but for a breathless moment Londo thinks about the fact that he could, that he's strong and sharp and on top and could do anything, anything at all.
Londo thrusts his hips up to meet him in what he assumes is the Narn style, giving him the counter-friction he seems to want. His thighs spread open further, and he wonders if G'Kar knows how filthy this is by Centauri standards, to involve the waste-making orifices in the sexual acts.
Perhaps he does, because he reaches one slow hand around Londo's body and casually, easily, penetrates Londo with just the tip of his finger. Londo can't help but buck up against him.
"Do you Centauri men enjoy this, hmmm?" he asks. "I know many humans and Narns who do, and even some Centauri women – " Londo gasps and has to shift his body, has to move, but it only impales him further on G'Kar's finger – "and you certainly have opportunity to explore, with all these brachiarti to play with."
Londo thrusts and twists with his brach that are inside G'Kar's pouch, stretching him viciously, rubbing hard against his nipples. "It is considered a lower . . . ungh, debased form of pleasure," he growls, scraping his sharpest teeth against the skin of G'Kar's neck. G'Kar laughs his appreciation and twists his finger sharply.
"Then we shall have to explore it further one day, will we not, Mollari?" he adds, pulling out at last, bringing his hand back around to Londo's front. He's scratching at Londo's chest with his fingernails, perhaps unthinkingly, and Londo can already feel the marks he's going to have in the morning. Angry red lines. "Wait, no, my apologies," G'Kar pants. Londo is annoyed, but unsurprised, to find that his tendency towards ironic politeness persists even in the throes of passion. "You wanted me to call you Londo, didn't you."
"I merely object to you calling me Mollari," he hisses. "It is perhaps like me calling you G'Quan while doing this," he adds, and lifts his thighs, shifts them up and down against G'Kar's impossible heat, squeezing his member hard between them. His brach are moving and shifting, in G'Kar's mouth, in his pouch, his hands, between his legs. He would not have guessed that G'Kar's body had so many soft places hidden from view.
"Ah, I see," G'Kar agrees amiably, his thrusts speeding up, growing erratic. Londo can feel the tingling in his extremities as G'Kar twists against him, the beginning of the loosening in his mind that is always the result of getting to six. "So you would be satisfied if I called you darling instead? Or perhaps sweetheart. Love? Honey? Baby?" Each endearment matched by a thrust, by a deep sucking kiss to one of Londo's brachiarti, to the intensity of G'Kar's gaze on him as their eyes meet.
"Please, G'Kar, I am attempting to achieve climaxes here," he protests, his voice sounding harsh and broken, his mouth falling open with the pleasure of it, with the need to take deep, desperate breaths.
"Then I shall call you Londo," G'Kar replies, and he is beginning to sound broken too, his voice tight despite his teasing tone. "For the sake of your pleasure."
"I thank you, I am sure," Londo gasps, and there begin the slow-rolling cascade of pleasures that crash through his body, overlapping one another until he can no longer remember where all of his body parts are, or what he's doing with them, or what G'Kar might do to them given half a chance. Distantly, he hears G'Kar shout and feels hot wetness spread over his thighs.
"You are quite welcome," G'Kar mutters, sounding distracted and far away.
There is a moment's silence, broken only by the sounds of their harsh breathing, the skin-on-skin sounds of them shifting away from each other. They end up on their sides, back to front, G'Kar's arm curving around Londo's waist. It is a dangerously exposed position, for Londo at least, to have someone at his back where he cannot see him.
G'Kar has always made him feel exposed. He has never enjoyed it.
Nonetheless he does not speak for a moment; he has found that many lovers prefer him to be quiet afterwards. But he cannot resist for long, and after listening to the annoying background hum of the station for as long as he can, Londo speaks. "Brachiarte for the singular. Brach, if you wish to be coarse and common about it."
G'Kar picks up one of the brachiarti and rubs his thumb down the length of it, squeezing in what is probably a preferred Narn sexual move. It feels strange, to be touched so soon after, when he is limp and exhausted.
"I do find that being coarse and common around you tends to make you angry," G'Kar murmurs, voice low, breath hot against Londo's neck. Londo suppresses a shiver. "And so it is always an appealing option." His fingers continue to caress the single brachiarte, slowly, absently.
On impulse, Londo concentrates and moves his next brach to twine around G'Kar's wrist, then another to curl down between them and do the same to his member. It is already hard again; so that portion of the political cartoons was not in error.
"So soon?" he asks, before he can help himself, then scowls at his own words. G'Kar laughs.
"Is it not fair, M – " he pauses. "Londo. Is it not fair, Londo, that, not having six ourselves, Narn should hardly be contented unless they go six times?"
"Great Maker," Londo mutters, and G'Kar laughs again, but Londo ignores this and concentrates on stroking G'Kar slowly, keeping his grip tight. "Will I never sleep again?" He has never used his brachiarti in quite this way, certainly never just after his climaxes. The friction makes his appendage feel odd, tender. Sensitive. He goes slowly, dragging out the sensation for both of them.
"Not if you insist on making yourself useful in this manner while awake," G'Kar returns politely.
"And do you never stop talking?" Londo growls, adding another brachiarte to the first, and then a third, covering G'Kar's member in soft stroking flesh. G'Kar pumps his hips forward into Londo's grip.
"Hah!" G'Kar's breath skitters along the back of Londo's neck, and Londo shivers. "That's – rich – coming from –