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He has to keep reminding himself that shivering is good , that it means his body is still functioning properly, that his life support systems have stayed online and he isn’t hypothermic. Shivering may be good for his health, but it’s terrible for his mood. He can’t get any work done when his back is cramping from the shakes and his hands are trembling too badly to type.

It’s fucking frustrating.

“Why did I let her talk me into this?” His question is rhetorical, but an answer comes to him through the implant anyway.

“Artemis requested that you take on a mission as part of your training,” SAM says, and Pol flinches at the sudden intrusion before he can stop himself. “You volunteered for this trip so that she could have alone time with Dr. Anwar on Havarl.”

Pol clears his throat. “Thanks, SAM.”

There’s a pause, then, as SAM seems to think. Or… as he processes new information?

“Are you in distress, Apollo?”

“I’m just cold, SAM. Voeld is pretty chilly.” Pol flexes fingers that feel stiff and sighs, stripping out of his underarmor and climbing right into the large bed in the Pathfinder quarters. Lexi had warned him against a hot shower immediately after returning from the mission, but he’s sorely tempted when the chilly blankets touch him. He shivers again and his teeth chatter together, and he pulls the blanket over his head.

“Your body temperature is within the normal range for humans,” SAM comments, and then goes silent once more. Pol groans into his pillow. He just can’t get used to the AI, no matter how many times it -- he? -- saved Artemis’ life.

He can’t fall asleep for the shivering, and he vaguely wonders if Cora’s having the same problem. Jaal definitely isn’t, not with the way the angara have adapted to the cold. He just burrows deeper into the covers.

After a few minutes of complete silence, the door swoosh open. Pol pops his head out from under the blankets in surprise -- usually, people knock before they walk into his room, or SAM announces that someone wants to talk to him -- and he meets Gil’s wide-eyed stare.

“What’s wrong?” Gil demands, striding deeper into the room so that the doors will shut behind him. “SAM said you need help.”

“I don’t need--” Pol starts, but SAM interrupts him.

The little orb on the desk lights up a little brighter, drawing their attention to it. “Apollo’s body temperature is at an uncomfortably low level. The best way to raise it is through sharing body heat.” A pause, then: “I believe you would be the best candidate, Gil.” Can an AI sound smug ?

Pol and Gil’s eyes meet again. Neither of them speak for a beat, then Gil bursts into laughter.

“That’s a new low,” Gil says, still chuckling, pulling his gloves off with painful slowness. “Sending your AI to do your dirty work for you.” He tosses both gloves to the couch.

“I didn’t--” Pol starts, but falls silent when Gil starts unzipping his uniform top. “I mean--” His mouth is dry. How do words work again? “I’m cold .”

Gil huffs out another laugh. “Likely story.” He sits on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, and Pol lets the blanket drop a little so that it falls across his shoulders instead of up under his chin. “If you wanted me to join you, you could have just sent a message.”

“And you would have read it in three hours after I’d already frozen to death,” Pol grumbles. This earns him a sideways glance from Gil, but the other man doesn’t stop his methodical undressing. “It wasn’t from me, anyway. It was SAM’s idea.”

The little quirk of Gil’s lips, while distracting, lets Pol know he’s whining. He decides to lay back down, rolling away so that his back is toward Gil. He pulls the blankets back up to his chin and closes his eyes, waiting for Gil to join him.

The mattress jostles as Gil shifts his hips to pull his pants down, then it dips as Gil slips under the blankets and right up to Pol’s back. Pol literally bites back his moan when he feels Gil’s bare skin against him by digging his teeth into his lower lip, but he can’t stop himself from shivering again or melting against his boyfriend.

Gil chuckles and presses a kiss to Pol’s bare shoulder, snaking his arms around Pol’s waist to pull him closer. His lips tickle at the nape of Pol’s neck when he says, “You’re freezing ,” as though it’s a surprise and not the very reason he was lured here by SAM.

“Voeld is fucking cold ,” Pol points out, voice a muffled grumble under the blanket, eyes closed like he’ll be able to sleep now with a very handsome, very naked man in bed with him. “That’s why you’re in my bed, isn’t it?”

“Mhmmm.” Gil draws out the sound, nuzzling into the short hair on the back of Pol’s head. He adjusts them so he can tuck one arm under Pol’s pillow and use the other hand to rub soothing circles over Pol’s arm -- pausing, as always, to squeeze the muscles there with appreciation -- before dipping down to do the same to his chest.

This time, Pol does let himself sigh in pleasure, wiggling a little closer so that their bodies are tucked together as tightly as possible. He smiles when Gil’s breath catches in his throat, pleased with himself, and then repeats the teasing motion.

“Hey,” Gil says, propping his chin on Pol’s shoulder and scratching his fingers through Pol’s chest hair. “I’m just here to warm you up, then it’s back to what I’m actually being paid for.” Contrary to his words, his fingers start on a meandering trail down to Pol’s stomach. ”You’re not allowed to be distracting.”

Pol’s breath catches in his throat before he speaks again. “That’s not really fair. You’re always distracting.”

“Am I now?” Gil sounds obnoxiously smug, and Pol would feign annoyance if Gil didn’t follow up his comment with a sharp nip at his jawline. “Are you warm enough yet?”

“Uhh…” Truthfully, Pol is more than warmed up by now, verging on overheating. “Not quite. I think I’ll need to use your talents for a few more minutes.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me now. Is that it?” Gil’s hand continues its slow but sure descent, pausing almost every second as his fingertips find something interesting, until Pol’s squirming is more about his own arousal than igniting Gil’s. “In that case, I think I know something that will help warm you up faster…” Gil’s fingers find their goal in the coarse hairs at the base of Pol’s cock, and he shivers again, but finally not from the cold.

“Gil…” If his voice isn’t a whine, it’s something very close. Gil muffles another chuckle against the freckles on Pol’s shoulder. “Come on, Gil, it’s been a long day.”

Gil’s fingers finally wraps around Pol’s cock, a gentle grip that is as much a tease as a relief. “You have had a long day of pathfinding,” he acknowledges, pumping gently up and down to coax Pol to full hardness. “I can make it up to you.” Gil’s movements become more certain as Pol rests thick and heavy in his hand and his breaths start to become more ragged.

Through the haze of teasing pleasure, Pol feels Gil’s hips gently rocking against his ass and little puffs of breath against his neck. Pol tries to reach behind him to return the favor, but the plan backfires as Gil releases his cock to grab his hand instead.

“You always take care of me,” Gil says, voice low and husky in Pol’s ear as he presses Pol’s hand firmly against the mattress. He shifts his other arm so that they can link their fingers together before returning to his slow teasing. “Let me take care of you this time.”

“But I like -- hng.” Gil’s teeth on his earlobe cut off Pol’s complaint. He starts again. “I like taking care of you,” he says, though it’s becoming more difficult to remember how words work with the way Gil is working him expertly. “Will you at least let me look at you?”

Gil pretends to consider, making a thoughtful humming noise as he sucks at the sensitive skin behind Pol’s ear. This earns him another bitten-back moan and a desperate thrust forward into his fist.

“Here, then.” He puts a little distance between them, and Pol immediately takes advantage by rolling them both so that Gil is on his back and Pol is settled nicely between his thighs.

Much better,” Pol says, grinning as he lazily grinds down against Gil with none of the desperation he’d been showing just a moment ago. It’s Gil’s turn to moan, fingers digging into the pale skin of Pol’s back and pulling him closer. “See, isn’t this nice?” Pol leans down and gives Gil a real kiss, finally, lingering for a long moment before licking at his lips with his tongue.

Gil opens for him, deepening the kiss and giving as good as he gets, their tongues gliding together until he has to break away to draw in a deep breath. Pol doesn’t hesitate, kissing the scruff that follows Gil’s jawline until he reaches Gil’s neck. He bites here, grinning against Gil’s skin when he gasps and thrusts up against him, a little whine building in his throat.

One of Pol’s favorite things to do is to leave a little hickey just barely under the high collar of Gil’s uniform, so he pauses to suck a small bruise into Gil’s warm skin. Gil’s gasp is a reward in of itself, but the little mark still makes him smile and press a kiss against it.

“Pol, I -- I had a plan .” Pol doesn’t listen, doesn’t stop as he kisses lower to Gil’s chest, paying attention only to the sweat starting to bead on his boyfriend’s skin and the little noises coaxed out by each press of lips, teeth, or tongue against a sensitive spot.

Gil comes back to his senses as Pol’s teeth graze over a nipple, remembering that plan he’d just been complaining about, the plan that sprung to his mind as soon as he realized SAM’s summons wasn’t actually a life-or-death emergency. He runs his fingers through Pol’s hair, petting him once, then grabs it and tugs until Pol obeys and climbs back up to kiss his mouth once more.

“Let me, please ,” Gil breathes against Pol’s lips, and Pol nods as he lets himself be pushed onto his back.

Gil straddles him briefly, grinning widely at the change in position before he leans down to kiss Pol again. Pol’s hands settle on his hips for a moment before sliding down to squeeze his ass and encourage him to grind down.

One more kiss and Gil is slipping free of Pol’s embrace, moving with a single-minded focus farther down the bed until he can push Pol’s knees apart and stretch out on the mattress between them. Pol props himself up on his elbows to watch, lips parted, as Gil nuzzles against his thigh.

Gil carefully maintains eye contact as he grips the base of Pol’s cock to hold it still as he licks a stripe up from base to tip. Pol hisses and his cock twitches in Gil’s grip, but he otherwise stays very, very still as he waits.

Gil isn’t done teasing, though, now that he has Pol right where he wants him. He kisses the tip of Pol’s cock with careful slowness, lingering as his lips curve into a smile as a single salty drop appears under his attentions. He switches to using his tongue when one of Pol’s hands starts to cup his face, and he’s rewarded with a gasp and those fingers tightening against his cheek before immediately relaxing again.

When Pol starts chewing on his lower lip and gripping the sheet with his empty hand, Gil finally takes pity on him. He pulls away just long enough to give Pol a wide grin and a wink before he finally, finally , swallows Pol down.

Pol makes a noise like he’s been punched and flops back on the mattress, his back bouncing slightly off of the soft surface. Gil’s laugh is a choked off noise, muffled around Pol’s cock, but he doesn’t let it distract him. He scoots a little closer, shuffling up the bed and grinding his own hard cock gratefully against the mattress below him.

He moans a little and picks up the pace, letting Pol’s cock slide almost all the way out of his mouth before swallowing him down again and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks hard. He squeezes his eyes closed to focus on making Pol fall apart beneath him, ignoring the pressure of his own arousal trapped between his stomach and the sheets.

It doesn’t take long for Pol to be dragged to the edge of his orgasm, not with the single-mindedness that Gil brings to the task, and not with the feeling of those lips and that tongue working him relentlessly.

Pol fights against the growing orgasm, digging his heels into the bed and pushing away from Gil. Gil follows, fingers gripping Pol’s hips to press his hips into the bed and to hold him still as Gil swallows him down once more.

Pol moans deep in his throat and looks down his body at where Gil is hard at work, face pink and eyes tight closed. He runs his fingers into the spikes of auburn hair, petting, whimpering, and then he comes with a sharp cry when Gil opens his eyes and stares right back.

Gil works him through it, swallowing down every drop that Pol spills, only releasing his cock with a soft wet sound when Pol pushes his head away.

Pol blinks hard to clear his vision and struggles to catch his breath as Gil beams at him, rising onto his knees and kneeling at the end of the bed. His cock stands out, hard and red and dripping , and he wraps one hand around it to pump slowly. More precome dribbles out of the tip, falling to the sheets, and Gil tips his head back on a moan.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Pol props himself up on one elbow, still breathing hard, and reaches for Gil’s arm. He pulls Gil down until their lips meet, and Gil moans into the kiss. Gil’s lips are still wet, Pol’s taste still on them, and Pol sucks hard on his tongue.

Gil breaks the kiss and rests their foreheads together, his whole body shuddering as he continues pumping himself.

Pol leans back enough to press a kiss to Gil’s forehead before falling back on the bed, grabbing Gil’s hips and tugging until Gil gives in and simply scoots up the bed until he’s kneeling with his cock just out of reach of Pol’s lips.

“You’re gorgeous,” Pol says, beaming up at Gil from between his thighs.

Gil smiles back, words beyond him for once, and guides the tip of his cock into Pol’s waiting mouth.

He groans immediately, tipping his head back and thrusting his hips forward. His cock plunges deeper into Pol’s mouth, and Pol moans around it, hands coming back up to rest on Gil’s ass like they belong there -- and as far as either man is concerned, they do.

It only feels like a few moments before Gil’s desperation combines with Pol’s tongue -- and a sharp slap on his ass from Pol’s calloused palm -- and Gil is coming on Pol’s tongue with a groan and a sincerely groaned, “ Fuck , Pol.”

Pol holds him up and eases him through it with eyes that have gone soft around the edges. When Gil comes back to himself, he climbs off of Pol’s face and stretches out by his side with a little huff.

Silence reigns for a long moment as Pol pulls the blankets back up from where they were kicked to the bottom of the bed, tucking them both in before pulling Gil into his arms. He kisses Gil’s forehead again, once, then rests his cheek on the man’s soft hair.

Gil’s body is relaxing into well-earned sleep when Pol suddenly says, “I’m definitely warmed up now.”

A single snort of laughter is his reward. “You’re welcome.” His voice is low, accent thicker as he relaxes.

Pol squeezes him tighter for a second and then lets his eyes drift closed too. “Thank you, Gil.”