Okay, yeah, that bastard was doing it on purpose. Tucker let his eyes roam over that ass, the tight curves from a million laps and probably two million squats every day, and it showed. Hell, it was perfect.

"I'm like the Energizer bunny, asshole." Which was a lie. He had once been told that he belonged in the Old West (i,e, master of the quick draw), but dude, after a few minutes, he was always ready to come back. That had to count for something, especially because after his first climax, he could go for a lot longer if he was interested.

And right now, he was fucking interested.

Wash's weight was comfortable on him, all the pieces fitting where all the pieces should, and he couldn't help but bring his legs in a little tighter on the other's sides to hold him there. Maybe that's what he was doing, not that he had a chance against the Freelancer, but he liked to think maybe he had a shot. "You know, you're the one bringing up staying power, Wash. This mean you're changing your hard stance on no sex?"

Fuck, he felt good. He felt good everywhere, and Tucker's hands ran up the other's back as he leaned in to kiss him again. Dimples. Wash had dimples and Tucker kissed them because they were cute. Fucker never smiled, but he should more. He definitely should more.