"What a surprise to absolutely no one." Ask a question about guns or military strategy or anything of the sort, and Wash could answer it, sometimes (often) with way too much detail. Ask him about pop culture shit or apparently music, and it was all on Tucker. That's fine; he liked being needed.
Dude, Wash was semi-hard. He could feel it, couldn't help but grind his hips up into him in a slow rock. Yeah. Yeah. His own cock was full on hard, but it wasn't his fault when Wash had an ass like that. If you did bounce that proverbial quarter off it, you'd get back two dimes and a nickel.
"You saying you won't like me when you're sober?" He was teasing, only half teasing, and he couldn't help but kiss those silly dimples again. They were cute. Right, left, and back to his lips in the middle, hard, demanding to be felt, to be tasted. His hands found the Freelancer's broad back, blunt nails running along spine, along muscles, around shoulderblades.
"Did you know," he murmured against his lips, the drunken lilt more obvious in his words the lower his voice got, "that you've got dimples? Scary Freelancer has dimples. Never would've guessed it." He slid down, kissing under his jaw as he trailed teeth over his skin. "They're cute, dude. It's now my life's mission to get a picture of you smiling and add it to my wall."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-06-26 02:32 am (UTC)Dude, Wash was semi-hard. He could feel it, couldn't help but grind his hips up into him in a slow rock. Yeah. Yeah. His own cock was full on hard, but it wasn't his fault when Wash had an ass like that. If you did bounce that proverbial quarter off it, you'd get back two dimes and a nickel.
"You saying you won't like me when you're sober?" He was teasing, only half teasing, and he couldn't help but kiss those silly dimples again. They were cute. Right, left, and back to his lips in the middle, hard, demanding to be felt, to be tasted. His hands found the Freelancer's broad back, blunt nails running along spine, along muscles, around shoulderblades.
"Did you know," he murmured against his lips, the drunken lilt more obvious in his words the lower his voice got, "that you've got dimples? Scary Freelancer has dimples. Never would've guessed it." He slid down, kissing under his jaw as he trailed teeth over his skin. "They're cute, dude. It's now my life's mission to get a picture of you smiling and add it to my wall."