[Open Log] Kinks and Freaks, Oh My!

[lightofdawn]

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

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[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?”

[lovernotafighter]

Hey, they could do that! They could totally do that, or something like that; was dry humping off the table? Sure, blowjobs, handjobs, and sex were (not his idea on that, either), but grinding through clothes...? Come on. Give him something! Throw him a bone.

Bow chicka bow wow.

And this close, he felt that cock twitch. Oh, Wash, how they mutually suffered for that ban he placed, and he felt the frustration in every part of him, every drunken piece of him. His own cock fucking ached, throbbed, needed. Needed so damn much and--

Hands slid down from the blonde hair, down that broad back as he mapped out muscles he had long since assumed but never felt. He went lower, over ribs and waist and the small of his back before he could grab that perfect ass and squeezed. It felt fucking better than it looked, too. Don't flaunt it if it wasn't there to be grabbed, sweet cheeks.

"So," he asked, using that same tone because it was fun with the way the Freelancer reacted. "Since we're not boning--" Worst choice of words, but he was none the wiser. "--can you at least tell me what you want to do with me? And no cryptic one liners, Wash; give me the good shit."

[cryptos]

Wash's pupils dilated abruptly when Tucker helped himself to a handful of his ass. It felt great but it also didn't exactly make his decision for them to not have sex tonight.

"Do I really look like the dirty-talk type to you, Tucker?" The blond asked, thoroughly exasperated.

He rolled off the younger man and further into the tight confines of the bed until his back was pressed against the wall. Then he reached out to pull Tucker closer into a spooning position with arms wrapped around him and one leg thrown over his to further nestle him closer to his body.

"We're going to sleep now and in the morning, while we struggle with our hangovers, we can talk about where you want this to go."

[lovernotafighter]

"...huh?"

Because seriously, what the fuck? They had been getting good, getting hot and heavy, he had a raging hardon and he knew he wasn't the only one. And, sure, they weren't going to have sex, but dude, petting? Dry humping? Mutual masturbation? Something?

But then...that. Then he was held, a tiny spoon against Wash, and Tucker just blinked. The mattress was comfortable and the warmth of the body all around him could make anyone drowsy, but that was the booze talking, that was the fight talking, that was the grief talking. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want nightmares to pass out.

Apparently, asking for dirty talk was off limits.

"Wash, dude, we were just getting started." He wriggled against, weakly, and the music ended on a high note, his playlist finally over. Silence stretched in the little room, other than a few FINALLY! Thank fucking god it's off! heard through the walls.

"I don't want to sleep," came the small pout. Tucker frowned a little as he turned over under Wash's arm and leg, his face against the other's neck, his chest. He could hear his heartbeat and it was the most calming thing he had ever heard in his life. His eyelids blinked heavily as he looked up at him.

"What do you mean, 'where I want it to go'? Do you already know or something?"

[cryptos]

“What the hell is the point of starting something when we’re not going to finish it?” The blond man grumbled. Wash was surprisingly warm even through the full bodysuit.

He audibly signed in relief when the music went off because sorry, Tucker, you were never going to sell him on the virtues of Queen.

When the younger man moved to squirm around in his arms, he didn’t try and stop him and it was only after Tucker got more comfortable that Wash let his arms tighten around the younger man again.

This close, the Sim trooper could smell the curious combination of musk, cordite, gun oil and metal that made up the predominant top-notes of Wash’s scent. But underneath was the barest trace of the spicy smelling soup he liked to use in the shower and strangely enough, vanilla. Maybe it was his shampoo or the shaving cream he used but it wasn’t the sort of scent you would expect out of a hardened ex-spec opts agent.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He murmured into the top of Tucker’s head as he own eyes started to drift shut. “I’d say that speaks of what I want. Now, go to sleep, Tucker. Tomorrow is going to be a long day too.”

[lovernotafighter]

"Wash," he muttered into his chest, "you smell good."

Tucker might have blushed after that, a hint of heat in his cheeks as those arms were suddenly tighter around him, as Wash admitted where they stood. He was there. He was close and in bed and they had fooled around and Wash hadn't taken advantage of him. Maybe it was because Tucker was drunk, maybe it was because Wash gave a shit. Maybe it was because he cared.

"Fuck tomorrow," he whispered. Tomorrow meant seeing Carolina. Tomorrow meant talking to Caboose. Tomorrow meant debriefing and press junkets and facing a day without Church, one of many. He opened his eyes and stared at that Kevlar suit, could feel it against his face, could smell his whiskey breath as against it.

But tomorrow meant Wash would be there, too. So, at least there was that.

"Don't tell me what to do," he murmured, and it was the booze talking. "I...I outrank..."

But the rest was lost in a quiet breath as he finally went to sleep. Or, rather passed out, but it was close enough.