[Open Log] Kinks and Freaks, Oh My!

[lightofdawn]

Hold on tight, hope you ain't scared...

Comments

He doesn't even know himself

[cryptos]

Seeing that all too familiar armor roaming around base had been like a punch right to the solar plexus. It had made it impossible to breathe or even form coherent thought. That fear had been quickly put to rest though Wash didn't think he'd be able to look at that armor any time soon and not have a shiver crawl up his spine.

Tucker was doing a remarkable job of wiping all thoughts of his former partner right out of his mind.

Deep down, he knew they were both drunk and shouldn't be doing such a rash thing as initiating their first kiss while inebriated. But the sad truth of the matter was, it just felt so...good. The ex-Freelancer didn't realize just how much he'd missed such basic human contact until this very moment.

He'd held himself apart from everyone and everything for so long, he'd forgotten how nice it felt to share a kiss with someone. Wash's eyes drifted shut slowly as he tentatively began to reciprocate.

Almost at a distance, he felt Tucker's hand rise to comb through his hair. Wash probably would have felt rather ashamed of it's sorry state considering he'd pretty much been fighting non-stop for days now with little more than his armor's sanitation devices to keep clean and odor-free. The chemical process did it's job but it left an uncomfortable sort of film on the skin and in the hair.

Yet another reason for them to not do this right now.

"What?" That garnered another befuddled look from the blond.

[lovernotafighter]

“Fucking heathen,” he muttered, before kissing him again, short and hard. Sure, Wash wasn’t a bed of roses, didn’t smell like clean laundry hanging from a line, but he didn’t really care. Tucker wasn’t that great either, not after being in a suit that shouldn’t even belong to him. Clean was a relative state of mind.

He liked to think he smelled dangerous.

And because he hadn’t even thought about this happening, he hadn’t thought about cologne, about spritzing up, about showering. He smelled of the same sterilization, of chemical cleanliness that masked the war and hell they had been through. And he didn’t give a fuck.

His fingers slid around to the side of Wash’s head, to the feel of the short strands against his palm, and he smiled before he broke away. “’Killer Queen’, by Queen. It’s a classic, dude.” He kissed his jaw, ignoring the stubble that had grown over neglect and being just plain busy with other things like not dying. It was rough, but interesting, different than he was used to. Women didn’t feel like this. Neither better or worse, and he thought he should be more confused about that than he currently was.

He kissed up to his ear, whispering against it. “I’ve gotta teach you music.” Teeth scraped against his lobe, teasing, careful. His heart was slamming in his dizzy head, fingers threatening to drop the bottle because he was distracted. Wash…damn, this was surreal.

[cryptos]

"Sorry I don't know twenty-second century music." Well, he was only off by like a century or so. Wash made a wordless sound of disgruntlement when Tucker kissed him again, this time much more firmly and way too briefly for his tastes.

No, the Sim trooper didn't smell any better than Wash did and the both of them could probably do with a shower right now but such things sort of fell by the wayside when you were already throwing out all logic or sanity by making out with your teammate and sorta kinda subordinate.

Wash carefully splayed his reinforced metal gauntlet against Tucker's ribs. He didn't dare squeeze down or exert much pressure for fear of accidentally hurting the other man.

His breath stuttered in his chest when Tucker started to drag his lips along the line of his jaw and a full body shiver went through him at the first hint of teeth biting down on his earlobe.

"Normally I'd say I just don't care but you kind of have me at a disadvantage here, Tucker." Who knew what the Sim trooper could convince him to do with the careful application of teeth and suction to his ears? "Let's put these bottles away before we knock them over?" He suggested huskily when his bottle clanked against Tucker's when the younger man leaned in closer.

[lovernotafighter]

Oh, Wash, you fucking wound him. Twenty-second? Really? Didn't they have music in that Freelancer program, or was it like a monastery where a vow of silence was law? Shit, man, that's just depressing.

Tucker was about to correct him, too, set that record straight, but then that hand was on his ribs and he didn't realize how much it turned him on. Wash was touching him, and not to shove him away. Wash was probably over-thinking it, too, thinking about how much force each finger in the suit could expel, thinking about how much he could touch him, thinking about what it would take to clean it or something equally too-complicated. He couldn't ever just enjoy something.

But his breath shook, so maybe Tucker was wrong.

Oh, wait, nevermind, because now he was worried about the bottles. Of all things--

"I can start with Queen. Everyone should know Freddie Mercury; he's a fucking god."

Of course, had he known that a little ear nibbles could have gotten his way, well, Tucker would have done that months ago. Laps? Nibbles. Chores? Teeth. Babysit Caboose? A little tongue. No single man should have that sort of power, and Tucker would never wield it responsibly, clearly. He kissed the shell of Wash's ear, breath hissing out, his blind hand pushing his bottle into that gauntlet.

Good. Now he had two hands free. "Nice idea," he muttered, moving down to nip along that rough jaw line again as both hands went to his hair. Maybe Tucker wasn't as helpful as he should have been, but it worked out for him.

It was sure a helluva lot nicer than what they were talking about before.

[cryptos]

No, he was too busy growing up during a time of war when humanity was on the cusp of extinction.

And he absolutely was overthinking everything because that was just how Wash rolled. That, and he had a genuine wish to not accidentally harm Tucker because the younger man was just so damned vulnerable without his protective armor in the way.

"Dear God, Tucker! Would you shut up about music and kiss me?" Wash grumbled against Tucker's jaw as the younger man pulled back.

Finding himself in possession of both bottles, the former-Freelancer found himself at a bit of a loss as to what to do for a moment.

"Here, just...lay back for a second. Let me put these away and get some of this armor off." There was Wash's bossy streak coming out in full once more. Not that it wasn't a good idea considering he was still pretty much in full armor and they couldn't easily do this with all that angular metal plating in the way.

[lovernotafighter]

"Dear God, Wash, can you stop being so bossy?" he mocked, making sure to use the same tone, the same inflection, if not slightly more nasally. Not that he was complaining about the order, and not that he was committing insubordination of any kind; he wouldn't dream of it.

Or maybe he did, quite frequently, but fuck all if he was about this, now. Surging forward, he pressed his lips to Wash's, hard, kissing him with drunken fervor and the type of courage that could only be found at the bottom of a whiskey bottle and grief. His tongue slid forward, trying to taste inside, grateful for how free his hands were to explore.

Not that there was much to explore because fuck all that armor.

He pulled away, and Wash said that. Tucker might have bitched about Should I put you in a maid's outfit before you start cleaning shit? Fucking drop it on the floor! but he was talking about armor, too. Armor. Holy shit, this was gonna happen, wasn't it? This was a thing, this was a thing and it was happening, and--

"'Some' or 'all'?" Tucker asked, scooting back. "You know, you shouldn't be out bossing around a captain, Wash. Especially a captain in his own room. It's gotta have some punishment attached to it, and if not, I sure as hell can think of some. You know, like the sexy kind?" He waited for the other man to get rid of the bottles, before he moved back up close to him.

"You know I can help you with that, right?" His voice was low, slow. "Unless you want to make this into a sexy strip tease for me."

[cryptos]

"Probably not but you're still talki--" Which was around the time that Tucker surged forward and kissed him, thus shutting Wash up mid-complaint. This time, however, the blond man was expecting it and he was a much more eager participant in the kiss.

Wash's lips parted an he let that questing tongue gain entry this time. Now, it might have been a couple of years since Washington had kissed someone, but it was sort of like riding a bike. It took a few false starts but then you were off and going again no matter how long it had been.

Unlike Tucker, he couldn't exactly let his hands do any exploration thanks to the fact that he now possessed both bottles. The sheer absurdity of the situation was getting to him.

Wash put some much needed distance between them and climbed shakily to his feet so that he could reach across the tight confines of Tucker's quarters and placed both bottles down on the desk near his helmet.

"I know you can. But just so you know, I'm not sleeping with you. Not tonight at least." Wash might have been drunk and he might have really, really enjoyed kissing Tucker just now but he still retained enough common sense to recognize that sleeping with Tucker right now was a terrible idea. They were both inebriated and emotionally vulnerable because of Church.

[lovernotafighter]

“You say that now, but that’s only because you haven’t seen what I can do with my hands. You know, other than a whole lot of stabbity.”

But he leaned back, sort of hoping that Wash would perform the strip tease after all. Was it even possible with that heavy armor? Tossing the gauntlets had the potential to knock him flat on his back, if not dent a floor or two, and there was nothing sexy about a concussion. Okay, well, well, maybe a little because it would have been earned by stri—

Focus.

“Fine, you wanna take it slow, so just hot makeouts and handjobs. Got it.” Bare heels dug into the bed as he smirked. Waiting. Fuck, he didn’t realized how bad he wanted it until now, how goodelectricbuzzing his body felt from the alcohol, and it seemed that at the moment whiskey dick wasn’t going to be a problem. As he scooted along the bed, his pajama pants slid a little further down his hips, flashing the shape of his bones and the delicate dust of fuzz of a thin happy trail; it deterred from the stirring shape between his legs.

He hummed along to Fat Bottomed Girls, randomly singing to the chorus in a hushed little sound. “Oh, won’t you take me home tonight? Oh, down beside your red fire light. Oh, and give it all you got.” Queen, man. Queen.

[cryptos]

"I say that because we're both drunk and we're not going that tonight." Unfortunately for Tucker, Wash wasn't really the strip tease type. He pulled off the reinforced gauntlets and then the armor on his arms until he reached his chest plate. Every piece of equipment was set down with maddening precision and respect.

Unlike some people in this room who would go unnamed, people whose name rhymed with the word fucker, Wash actually cared about his equipment.

"Oh my god, Tucker, don't make me regret doing this." Even as Wash uttered those words, his eyes were betraying him because they hungrily roamed over Tucker's body. They precarious way his sleeping pants were hanging off of his sharp hipbones had the ex-Freelancer's mouth going dry.

His bare fingers actually scrambled unsteadily against the clasps holding his chest and back plates together.

[lovernotafighter]

Hey, Tucker cared! That shit had to be in working order to keep his perfect ass in perfect non-bullet-hole condition, and he respected it. He also knew that he didn't have to treat it like a lady and pull out the chair for it or wine and dine it because it was a suit and it didn't care if it was on the desk or the floor. He wondered if Wash ironed his underwear, too. And socks. You know that motherfucker was ironing socks.

"I'll make sure the only thing you regret is not sleeping with me." His voice was low, practically a breathy purr, almost like the caricature of a phone sex operator. Dude, was Wash looking at him like a starving man? Was he totally checking him out?

Fuck yeah he was. And watching normally Stick-Up-His-Ass Wash had a little whoops with his fingers. Point One for Professor Fuck.

"Though, let's be fucking real: we both know you want to." Hands planted on either side of him on the issued bed, and he pushed himself up, trying not to get excited the more that armor was removed. It might not have been a strip tease, but Tucker thought he was taking his sweet time on purpose. He couldn't wait to see what was under it.

To the side of him, Freddie sang about pleasures and greatest treasures before ordering everyone to get on their bikes and ride.

His pants dipped more on his right hip than his left. "Waaaash, get over here. I'm fucking impatient, drunk, and horny, and it's not even prom night. It doesn't get any better for you than this."

[cryptos]

No, Wash just liked being able to get up in the middle of the night and not have to worry about breaking a toe because his armor was strewn out everywhere. That, and it lessened the chance of his armor getting knocked out of working order.

Which for a paranoid ex-Freelancer would pretty much be the worst possible scenario at this point.

"I know these lines sound good to you in your head, but you'd think after the amount of times you've struck out, you'd learn by now that they're freaking terrible." Despite his snarky comments, there was no denying the hungry way Wash was looking at him. The blond was most definitely checking him out.

He finally managed to undo the clasps holding his chest piece and pack piece together and carefully set it down as well, thus leaving him at least unarmored from the waist up. Wash wasn't going to take anything else off because he didn't trust himself or Tucker in their inebriated states.

"Be that as it may, I'm not sleeping with you tonight, Tucker. So either take it or leave it." That was just about the last thing he wanted but Wash would put back on every piece of armor he'd shed so far and walk out that door because as was already previously stated, he was lameass buzzkill.

[lovernotafighter]

"Hey! I told you about my strikeouts in confidence, not so they could be used against me later!" His lips screwed in an annoyed little scowl, but he sure as shit didn't miss the way Wash was looking at him, that needy crawl of a hungry gaze over his body. All those strikeouts suddenly seemed negated by the expression on the Freelancer.

And Tucker's look wasn't any better; fuck, Wash looked good unarmored. The amount of times he had seen it could be counted on both hands, but this held a different context, a different meaning. The line of his chest, shit, the hint of his collarbone and the curve of his fucking shoulder fuckfuckfuck. When had everything started to change? When had it started to move into this new territory?

It wasn't just the booze, was it? It just wasn't the fucking Church shit. When he thought Wash had been captured by the other army, he had felt--

"Blowjobs count?" But Wash was predictable so he sighed and rolled his brown eyes as the song next to him changed. "Look, fine, whatever. You can, like, sleep next to me at least. I'll only dream-grope you once or twice."

And he was only half kidding.

His loose legs opened a little on the bed. "Just get the hell over here already before the blue balls start."

[cryptos]

"Tucker, I've seen you hit on and strike out with no less than a dozen women in the time I've known you. All I'm saying is maybe you should get some new material." Yet despite the terrible come-ons, here was Wash with a heated and hungry look in his eyes as he stood there halfway un-armored.

The older man had a pretty spectacular body thanks to the active and fit lifestyle he lived. He wasn't as tall as say Caboose or burly like say Sarge but was a nice happy medium between the two. And thanks to the skin-tight reinforced mesh of the kevlar bodysuit, every well-defined muscle was on display.

"Blowjobs absolutely count." He blandly stated and when Tucker suggested he spend the night sleeping next to him, he looked visibly torn. "I don't think you'd appreciate me crawling into bed with my armor on, Tucker. Learn some patience, would you?" Wash sounded aggravated but his eyes predictably followed the movement of Tucker's legs until there was an inviting space between them that he wanted to crawl up into. It wasn't that Wash didn't want this any less than Tucker did. He just had more control than the Sim trooper and knew that any relationship that got its start in booze was almost certainly bound for failure.

After a moment's hesitation, he reached for the clasps of his lower armor and began to fully divest himself of those heavy metal plates.

[lovernotafighter]

“Apparently, I was just using them on the wrong person, huh, Wash?”

Because none of it was getting lost on Tucker, not those looks, not the path of those eyes. Wash was really good at denying himself and Tucker? Tucker was the opposite; he was indulgent. And right now, he wanted to indulge in a little Freelancer.

But who could blame him? That fucking Kevlar looked so goddamn good on him that it would be all he could think about for nights, for days, for weeks when he would slip off for a little Alone Time. If it looked that good on, then off—

Goddammit, was Wash teasing him? Was that why it was taking this long, because Tucker was only mildly afraid he might pass out from all the booze he drank and what then? How unfair would that be, after all this? Two could play at the teasing game, though, because yeah, his eyes were right where Tucker wanted them to be. Good. Now get the hell over here and kiss me!

Nope, fuck just thinking about it. He opened his mouth, and,

“Fuck patience, come make out with me now, Wash!”

There. Even if it wasn’t in the same as what Wash meant. Even if it was the rudest way of asking him. Even if Tucker would have been happy sleeping next to him in armor, just as long as he didn’t have to wake up alone with pieces of that suit staring at him, reminding him. He’d take cold metal legs any day.

[cryptos]

"So it would seem." Wash agreed with another heated look. There was no denying how much he would love nothing more than to crawl into bed with Tucker and fuck him until they were both sweaty and sated. But Wash just couldn't get over his own moral hangups to do that. They were both drunk and hurting, not to mention it felt vaguely disrespectful considering all they had lost today.

He had to bend down in order to work at removing the armor from his lower legs and Tucker would be treated to the sight of that very nice ass and the long line of Washington's back.

Finally, after what was no doubt an eternity for that impatient Sim trooper, Wash had finished climbing out of that bulky armor. The son of a bitch even lined up his boots against the edge of the bed before climbing onto the bunk.

"If you're this impatient, I'm kind of worried about your staying power, Tucker." Wash teased as he settled in between those splayed legs and he could ease his body weight down on top of the younger man. A mischievous looking smile was flitting at the corners of his lips and Tucker would discover Wash actually had dimples which automatically took almost a decade off of his face. It was such an incongruous expression for the somber and stoic Freelancer.

[lovernotafighter]

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.

[cryptos]

All those leg days had certainly paid off because you could bounce a quarter off that ass. Despite the fact that Was was more comfortable wandering around in full armor 23 hours out of the day, he didn't seem particularly self-conscious about it.

"I have no idea what that is, you do realize that, right?" Oooo but if he had then no doubt Wash would have been making some choice cracks about Tucker's staying power.

Wash had most of his weight resting on his elbows which were stretched out next to Tucker on the bed but he allowed enough of his weight to press down on Tucker that the younger man could feel the semi-hard line of his cock against him.

They fit together nicer, moreso than he might have thought but there was the perfect amount of distance in their heights that neither had to stretch up too far or down in order to kiss each other.

"I have not, ask me again tomorrow when we're both sober." Wash managed to get out before Tucker was leaning up to kiss him once more. It didn't last as long as he might have hoped and for some ridiculous reason, the other man was skimming his mouth along his cheeks, an action he considered protesting before it hit him. Right he'd forgotten about those damned dimples. It had been so long since Wash had seen himself smiling in the mirror or some other way that he'd very nearly forgotten about them.

[lovernotafighter]

"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."

[cryptos]

"Sorry I'm not so well-versed on your ridiculous culture from literally hundreds of years ago. Why don't you make some references from the last hundred years, huh?" Wash grumbled with what could only be described as a petulant twist to his mouth. It was hard to picture the deadly serious Agent Washington as pouting but he sure was pretty damned close to doing that exact same thing right now.

He was semi-hard but the slow rock of Tucker's hips grinding them together like that threatened to bring him to full hardness. The quietest of gasps escaped the former Freelancer and the full body shudder that went through him betrayed just how much he'd enjoyed that.

"Thus implying I like you when I'm sober?" Wash asked blandly with all the deadpan humor in the universe. "It's not like that, I just don't think either of us are in a place right now to be making drunken decisions." He kept talking even as Tucker kissed his way around his face while alternating between each dimple.

"Yes, I'm aware but I fail to see how that is relevant." The tips of his ears were beginning to grow pink with embarrassment. He eased the rest of his weight down on Tucker, just freeing up his hands and he wasted no time in moving to capture the younger man's jaw between his hands so that he could hold Tucker still long enough to kiss him firmly. "Please stop taking."

[lovernotafighter]

"Hey, you're the one that came back for seconds." Which wasn't it at all, but who was counting? Goddamn, that little gasp turned him on, everything Wash was doing was turning him on, and he couldn't wait to hear that sound again. C'mon, Wash, gimme. Gimme.

There was a roll of his hips again. "And I think you're in the best place, don't you?"

He almost laughed at the Freelancer's insistence to talk while he kissed around him. Really, dude, the topic was over and done with; they wouldn't get it on, fine. He didn't like it, but he wouldn't pressure Wash either; the guy would probably bail if he did, and while Tucker loved watching him leave with an ass like that, being alone for the night didn't sound nearly as pleasant as this.

"It's all relevant for future dates." There. A plan. A door opened for it, and he would keep him on it even when his head wasn't full of cotton and air and liquid courage. He opened his mouth to add something - he always had to add something - when that weight was down on him, a warm blanket of heat and strength. Hands were on his jaw a second later, his lips being kissed, and the pounding in his chest was loud enough to be heard in his ears. Fuck, that was hot. That was so hot. Fingers twitched against the other's back before digging in.

"Give me a reason to stop talking," he whispered with a sly smile, his glassy eyes sparkling in the dim light.

[cryptos]

“I didn’t—ugh—you are the most vexing person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting in my life.” The way Tucker was grinding them together was supremely distracting but felt so damned good that Wash didn’t have to heart to tell him to cut it out.

He nibbled delicately at Tucker’s mouth in a teasing manner that seemed out of character for the stick in the mud Washington. “You’re so convinced there’s going to be a second date. Let’s try and make it through this without you completely turning me off with that damned mouth of yours.”

There wasn’t any real venom in the blond’s voice but instead, it sounded both font and exasperated all at the same time. His thumbs swept along the sharp jut of Tucker’s jaw and his eyes seemed to darken with need in the face of that sly challenge.

Tucker wanted him to give him a reason to stop talking? Well, he’d just have to work on that, now wouldn’t he?

This time, when he kissed Tucker, it was with more passion than he’d shown so far. He practically devoured the younger man’s mouth and pressed against the seam of his lips with his tongue, insistently begging entry so that he could explore further.

[lovernotafighter]

"Well, considering you won't let me turn you on with it..." Blowjobs. He's talking about oral sex, Wash, and the vehement denial of anything that fun. His look said just that, whispered it in low, sultry tones. Come on. Argue. He dared you.

But fuck all, he hoped Wash would take that challenge when he was touching him, when there were thumbs against his jaw. Fuck, Wash looked hot when he was plotting, when the wheels turned in his head, and Tucker wanted to know what the hell was going on inside his head.

Stopping was going to be hard. Possible, of course, but fucking hard.

And then that kiss came, the kind that stole breath, stole all conscious thought, that was as much of a bodily experience as it was just his mouth. His arms slid up, slipping into that blonde hair, clutching it as he opened his mouth to Wash's tongue, to his taste, and his own tongue slipped up to meet his. His legs wrapped around the other's waist, his glorious calves squeezing tight, while Freddie sang about his best friend in Tucker's ear.

Why hadn't they done this sooner? Why did it take someone dying to get to this point?

[cryptos]

“I can see delayed gratification is going to be a problem with you. Haven’t you ever heard of the concept of anticipation just making the eventual act all the sweeter?” Wash probably knew a lot about that, the damned tight-assed bastard. He knew better than to rise to that particular bait at least and let the implication go by unremarked upon.

Wash seemed to sense that Tucker enjoyed the way he was cradling his jaw between his palms so he didn’t move them just yet even though his fingers were itching to reach out and touch the other man’s hair and explore his skin.

For a tight-ass buzzkill, the blond man was shockingly good at kissing. Wash had always been tight-lipped about personal things like his sexual history or even his personal preferences. Well, after tonight, Tucker could check at least one box off in regards to the mysterious ex-Freelancer. Wash seemed to have little problems with kissing his male teammate.

The blond man groaned his approval into the kiss when Tucker tightened his legs around him. Their tongues tangled and stroked slickly against one another, trading and gaining ground on a whim. It was heated but languid in a way, a thorough exploration of each others mouths without racing or the finish line. Of course Wash’s meticulous anal-retentiveness would carry over into the bedroom like this.

[lovernotafighter]

The sounds Wash gave him were delicious, encouraging, and when all he wanted to do was roll them the fuck over and just rut like weasels, Tucker surprisingly kept himself in check. Self-control might not have been his forte, but he was even impressing himself. Especially when Wash was basically exploring his mouth like Lewis and Clark on a foot trail across the goddamn country.

Fuck.

Most of the pain of the day was burned away from the way he kissed Tucker, but the sharp edges remained. What would Church (Epsilon. It's important here) think of them, them together? Kissing. Seeking out something akin to comfort in alcohol and each other. Could all of the fucking projections and calculations lead them to this?

Would this be the same tomorrow, when the pain was a little less?

Tucker slowed the kiss, tapering it off, turning his head to brush his lips over that stubbled cheek that said it was five o'clock somewhere. His own face was surprisingly smooth, no hair, no marks, just dark skin that was soft to the calloused fingers on his jaw. "Wash," he whispered, and it was low, sultry, dark and soft like velvet as he loosened the hold of his legs. He just wanted to see what the other man would/could do.

[cryptos]

Wash was certainly tempted to do just that. Roll over and rut together until they reached messy completion. He was fully hard now thanks to the friction and kissing.

He would be lying if he tried to pretend he hadn’t thought about this, maybe not in this manner but definitely about kissing Tucker. Usually, it was because he just wanted to shut that smart mouth up but Wash was self-aware enough to recognize this attraction had been going on for while.

Wash wasn’t thinking about Epsilon right now, wasn’t thinking about Carolina’s pain and how it made is own heart ache in sympathy. All he cared about was the slick brush of tongues and damp breath shared between the two of them.

But when Tucker moved to end the kiss, he respected the unspoken command for some space and didn’t try and follow those lips as they pulled away from his. Hearing his voice uttered in that silky tone of voice make his cock twitch and when he opened his eyes, Tucker would find them glazed over with need. The thin ring of gold surrounding the pupils could be seen this close. “Yeah?”