[ Like field stripping a rifle his hands find familiar catches, works the mag locks to pop out pauldrons, gauntlets, the segments of his chest plate- anything he could reach. Cutting away bit by bit, whittling Cerberus down to the thin neoprene titanium weave suit that acts as a bloodless membrane between the weapon and Locus.
Partners.
His partner and there's a coil of something aching and possessive he can't quite shake as he worms his way out of the undersuit- skids a hand down to finish stripping himself first. Can't see with his eyes closed, can't hear over the thundering of blood in his ears, can't breathe- and he doesn't want to. It's crushing an grounding rather than cloying and claustrophobic- because he knows this hungry heat. ]
no subject
Partners.
His partner and there's a coil of something aching and possessive he can't quite shake as he worms his way out of the undersuit- skids a hand down to finish stripping himself first. Can't see with his eyes closed, can't hear over the thundering of blood in his ears, can't breathe- and he doesn't want to. It's crushing an grounding rather than cloying and claustrophobic- because he knows this hungry heat. ]