Yes, Wash did. Not as much as the docs, but he worried probably more than the rest of the Freelancers. Or, at least, more openly than the others. Certainly more than Maine did, mostly because Maine went and did, rather than asked and deliberated.
Maine really wished he had his voice if only to say Yes, yes to all of it. Yes, they were doing this. Yes, he worried too much. Yes, he could handle it. Tiredness and pain were all temporary; they were trained to work through it, and this was a sweeter reward than any mission they could go on.
Wash's hands weren't that different than his own; smaller, sure, and calloused in the same familiar places. Maybe a little less so. Still, new hands, foreign hands, hands that weren't his own and knew exactly where to touch him, how to touch him... It made his thoughts scatter, lost away on each move of that grip. The hiss rattled, rumbled in that ruined throat, his large chest rising and falling in faster breaths.
Yes. There was a brief, little nod in case he didn't understand the growl, but he thought he was making his point clear. Hips rocked in time to the strokes, moving with them as his hand left the one he had been riding and going back to seek out Wash's cock again. His grip was warm, all-encompassing as he mirrored the movements, the speed the other used. They were partners, after all; they were trained to compliment each other.
Lips found Wash's hair as he turned his head, kissing his crown as he started to pant softly, ruffling the strands. Fucking hell, this felt good. Not as good as sex, but so fucking close.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-06-14 04:48 pm (UTC)Maine really wished he had his voice if only to say Yes, yes to all of it. Yes, they were doing this. Yes, he worried too much. Yes, he could handle it. Tiredness and pain were all temporary; they were trained to work through it, and this was a sweeter reward than any mission they could go on.
Wash's hands weren't that different than his own; smaller, sure, and calloused in the same familiar places. Maybe a little less so. Still, new hands, foreign hands, hands that weren't his own and knew exactly where to touch him, how to touch him... It made his thoughts scatter, lost away on each move of that grip. The hiss rattled, rumbled in that ruined throat, his large chest rising and falling in faster breaths.
Yes. There was a brief, little nod in case he didn't understand the growl, but he thought he was making his point clear. Hips rocked in time to the strokes, moving with them as his hand left the one he had been riding and going back to seek out Wash's cock again. His grip was warm, all-encompassing as he mirrored the movements, the speed the other used. They were partners, after all; they were trained to compliment each other.
Lips found Wash's hair as he turned his head, kissing his crown as he started to pant softly, ruffling the strands. Fucking hell, this felt good. Not as good as sex, but so fucking close.