Every sound, every noise only spurred him on. Wash groaning? Another stroke. Wash kissing him to hide the sounds? Another squeeze. It was taking everything in him not to just roll them over, to pin Wash down and fuck him down into the mattress until the cot broke. He certainly had the excess energy to spend, unlike someone here.

But Momma Washington might lecture him afterwards. Not something he wanted to hear. And if he was vague enough, he could get North in on it, too, stereo of team concern.

Hmm, what was this? Maine felt the hand down his chest, sliding south, and he wondered-- Yes, he was. Growling against the other's mouth, his cock slowly stirred the closer to it Washington got. Dammit, this was going to stop at handjobs, was it?

Maine's strokes slowed, a cruel turn of affair as he waited for Wash to grip him; Wash had some catching up to do. Severing their kiss, he didn't pull away, instead still breathing his air, his grey eyes half-lidded. He hissed, low, teeth biting at the other's lips once before he leaned back.

Want to? Letting go of his fellow Freelancer's cock, he slid his hand lower, cupping his balls, rolling them in his large palm. It was very difficult to ask for sex without the use of words.