[Open Log] Kinks and Freaks, Oh My!

[lightofdawn]

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

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[cryptos]

Unlike Maine, he found himself filled with trepidation over being paired with an AI. Sure, all the data said that it improved your stats across the board and so far, York was proving just how valuable they could be. North had gotten outfitted with Theta without any complications but Wash found himself both intrigued and skittish about the idea of sharing his brain with anyone.

When Maine shifted over, the shorter man easily squirmed his way further onto the bed until he was practically glued to the other Freelancer's side. He felt the other wrap one around him and he ended up with his head cushioned on Maine's shoulder with his arm thrown across his chest.

"Oh you're going to push me out of the bed, huh? Guess I better cling on tight then, kinda like a lamprey?" He punctuated his statement by curling his fingers into the fabric of Maine's shirt.

He'd no sooner closed his eyes then he felt those callused and rough fingers skate under the hem of his own tee-shirt along his belly. Now, Wash was a red-blooded male with an active libido like many young men his age and it had been weeks since he and Maine had been afforded an opportunity such as this. So he'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted and judging by the way his dick went half-hard inside of his shorts, his body agreed with him.

It would be so easy to let Maine sneak his hand down the front of his sweatpants and inside his underwear for a quick and dirty handjob. But considering the taller man couldn't even move around in bed without wincing, he knew Maine was in more pain than he was letting on and Wash didn't want to add to that burden.

His breath feathered across those still angry looking scars as he tilted his head up somewhat to look up at the other with a somber look on his face. "We shouldn't, you're recovering and I'm dead tired."

[themeta]

We shouldn't. Wash had said that, when he was breathing against his neck, against the sensitive skin there, and while there was pain, it wasn't enough to stop. It just enough to make it...better, to make it more interesting than normal. And normal was fairly interesting on its own.

But Wash had said We shouldn't, not stop, so he rumbled a little grunt under his breath as his fingers slid lower, slowly south of navel and beneath the elastic line of his underwear. This wasn't strenuous. This wasn't difficult. If he couldn't move his fucking hand around, he had no business being in the project to start with.

Besides, something - maybe the half-hard cock his hand was going for - told him that Wash wasn't as invested in that single weak protest.

Fingers curled around the warm, awakening length, the large grip wrapping it as he squeezed a little, once, twice, before a slow stroke from base to tip and back down again. Wash had been right: this was going to be quick and dirty. No long lingering touches of fingers, no exploring, no trying to see how fucking loud Wash could get. This was doing it to do it, a reminder that he could do it, and didn't need to carted around with kid gloves anymore.

It had been a long time since he and Wash had anyway.

He hissed again, questioning. Stop?

[cryptos]

He knew they shouldn't do this, knew that it was just inviting trouble but the warm, heavy, weight of Maine's rough hand splayed across his belly was enough to suspend Wash's good intentions. They went out the window when the other man slid his fingertips downwards and dipped under the elastic of his pants and underwear in one smooth motion.

He suddenly had the warm press of Maine's palm spanning his dick and any protests he might have had, died on his tongue.

"Oh Jesus." He practically hissed the words and automatically bucked up into the grip of those rough fingers as they squeezed around him. It didn't take long for Wash to grow hard and straining against Maine's grip and his breath grew shallow and rapid.

The sound of that wordless hissing growl dragged his attention up once again but Wash's gray-blue eyes were glazed over with desire and need. He honestly didn't want to stop but he had to try at the very least.

"Are you sure?"

[themeta]

Wash's hiss was a confirmation if nothing else, and he found that it turned him on, made his cock come alive in his pants. The feel of the dick in his hand was all he needed, and he started up a rhythm, something steady, something calling. Speed would come later, if Wash could last that long.

Maine didn't think he could.

When asked if he was sure, the larger freelancer just grinned, all teeth, something almost dangerous in it, like a shark. Yes, the growl said, his grip a little tighter as if to confirm it, reliving all these moments he hadn't gotten to enjoy in weeks. There was a turn of his head as he bit at the other's lips, nipping at the bottom one as he stroked his hand long, slow, proof. Sure, it hurt to turn, it hurt, but pain could make things better.

But if Wash was that worried, he'd take a pill after. Not before. He wanted to finish this first, as his calloused rubbed over the tip, over the slit. And he wanted to make sure Wash finished, too.

[cryptos]

He'd known deep down that if he gave Maine an inch that he would take the whole damned mile. But it got hard to remember that and all of his other reservations when Maine was squeezing him so sweetly.

But the sight of that big, toothy grin that bordered right on the edge of looking savage had his dick twitching because holy shit. Maine looked downright feral when he grinned like that and Wash had forgotten it. Under normal circumstances, it might have even freaked him out a little bit but all the blood vacating his brain to center down around his cock had apparently made everything a little bit confusing because all it did was serve to turn him on even further.

He groaned into the sharp sting of Maine's teeth biting down on his lower lip. His breath stuttered and seized in his chest at the subtle tightening of those callused fingers around him and the answering long, slow stroke upwards.

Wash desperately leaned up to try and catch Maine's mouth in a kiss so that he could use it to muffle the sounds that threatened to bubble up in his throat. His own hand moved down the broad line of Maine's chest and over his belly so that he could at least return the favor.

[themeta]

Every sound, every noise only spurred him on. Wash groaning? Another stroke. Wash kissing him to hide the sounds? Another squeeze. It was taking everything in him not to just roll them over, to pin Wash down and fuck him down into the mattress until the cot broke. He certainly had the excess energy to spend, unlike someone here.

But Momma Washington might lecture him afterwards. Not something he wanted to hear. And if he was vague enough, he could get North in on it, too, stereo of team concern.

Hmm, what was this? Maine felt the hand down his chest, sliding south, and he wondered-- Yes, he was. Growling against the other's mouth, his cock slowly stirred the closer to it Washington got. Dammit, this was going to stop at handjobs, was it?

Maine's strokes slowed, a cruel turn of affair as he waited for Wash to grip him; Wash had some catching up to do. Severing their kiss, he didn't pull away, instead still breathing his air, his grey eyes half-lidded. He hissed, low, teeth biting at the other's lips once before he leaned back.

Want to? Letting go of his fellow Freelancer's cock, he slid his hand lower, cupping his balls, rolling them in his large palm. It was very difficult to ask for sex without the use of words.

[cryptos]

Maine wasn’t the only one randy and needy from this forced celibacy the other Freelancer had been under since his surgery. He bucked up into the large hand as best he could considering the tight confines of the bed and his sweatpants.

A part of Wash wanted to kick them off but he knew deep down that if he did that then things were going to escalate and they probably would end up fucking right then and there.

Which didn’t necessarily sound like a terrible idea if not for the idea that Maine had very nearly died only a few weeks ago and that he couldn’t even turn his head without grimacing in pain!

Wash figured, on the scale of terrible ideas this had to rate a solid six or seven.

That didn’t stop him from sneaking his hand underneath the hem of Maine’s pants so that he could squeeze him through the thin layer of his underwear.

“This is a terrible idea, you know tha—“He said when Maine pulled away from the kiss. Wash’s lips were stinging and red from the bites of those surprisingly sharp teeth. Of course, the sensation of having his balls fondled and cupped kind of derailed his train of thought mid-sentence. “Jesus, Maine!”

[themeta]

If it was that bad idea, Wash could ride top and Maine could lay back, if he was so worried about it. There were ways. There were ideas. There were avenues they could take, and every time he said it was a terrible idea, Maine just wanted to prove him wrong.

Consider it competitive, consider it simply hating to be told what he shouldn't do.

And the way Wash cursed that, the way Jesus, Maine dropped from his lips, it made him roll those balls again, cupping them, running his thumb along them. He wanted to hear him again, wanted him to be loud enough for the both of them, wanted Wash to stop talking about what a terrible idea this was and just enjoy it. He knew what risks he was taking, and he still didn't care.

But then he felt that seeking hand under his pants, could feel the fabric tightening around his cock as the hand squeezed him, and the sharp pleasurable sensation ran throughout him. His hand stopped for a moment because everything did; in the few weeks of nothing, he had forgotten how good this could feel. Fuck, Wash!

The noise in his throat rumbled, loud, long before he moved his hand back up to the length of Wash's cock and started to stroke it again, base to tip and back down again. He moved his head down a little, trying to catch Wash's neck, biting at the side of it, careful not to leave marks. The last thing either of them needed was the skeptical looks and quiet rumors.

[cryptos]

There were ways for sure and God knew Wash loved riding Maine when he got the chance because it allowed him to control the angle and pace when taking the other man inside of him. Maine was sizable and it took a lot of care and lube to open Wash up enough that he could take that large cock without any real pain.

It had been weeks, it felt longer now but that could just be his libido talking. Or maybe it was the way Maine was toying with his balls. He practically hissed when his lover stroked his thumb along the sensitive seam between them.

He mapped out the entire length of Maine's dick through the material of his underwear and even went so far as to squeeze him between the barrier of cotton. The younger man was hesitant to reach his hand inside and touch the velvety soft skin of that cock. If he did, then he knew there was a good chance he would fold and just let Maine have his way with him.

Wash's head fell forward to rest against Maine's shoulder and he willingly exposed his throat to the larger man's nips and kisses. Maine often left little marks and bruises along his lower neck and shoulders during their loveplay in places where no one else would see. Wash had always enjoyed them but the last remaining marks had faded away during Maine's convalescence, thus leaving that freckled neck and shoulders free of any hickeys or other marks.

"Maine? Christ, Maine. Stop, I don't want to hurt you." He practically groaned the words as his eyes squeezed shut tightly under the barrage of sensation and low-key anxiety that he might accidentally set Maine's recovery back.

[themeta]

There were very few people that were worried about hurting Maine, enemies notwithstanding. He could take it. He could take a lot of things, could handle bullets and knives, so fucking wasn't going break him apart. Fucking Wash especially, if only because Wash would be so worried about hurting him further.

Stop. Fuck, he didn't want to stop. Certainly didn't want to stop because of him, not when he knew he could take it.

His hand pulled out of Wash's clothes, listening as the elastic of his underwear snapped against softly against his skin. Lips found the other's throat, secretly loving the freckles; they were...cute Not that he would tell Wash that. Teeth bit at his neck, but teeth gave way to sucking, and soon he was leaving a mark on his throat. One. Two. He didn't know he was placing them in the same places that his own scars were. He wasn't deep enough to think about what it meant.

Instead, his newly freed hand followed the line of Wash's arm, his wrist, to where he was inside Maine's pants. He gripped the top of Wash's fingers, and pulled them away from his dick. Pulled them up towards his navel. Then pressed down and slid them under his underwear, down, down until Wash's hand was sandwiched between Maine's palm and Maine's impressively hard, bare cock. The skin of both were warm, and he rocked his hips up once,

The growl was low, but curious. Stop now?

[cryptos]

Yes, well, Wash was more invested in keeping Maine whole and hearty than say one of their enemies or even their fellow Freelancers. He cared for the larger man and enjoyed what they shared together.

Wash couldn't quite stifle the whine that bubbled up in his throat when Maine suddenly withdrew his hand from inside his pants. Sure, he'd said to stop and to his credit, the other Freelancer did just that but god dammit, did it suck? Even the minimal snap of the elastic in his underwear falling back into place against his skin felt more vivid and present thanks to how revved up he was.

The younger Freelancer all but moaned under the assault of Maine's mouth against his neck. His skin was already starting to turn red in places thanks to the application of teeth and suction until Washington's neck began to look like it had been chewed on by an angry badger.

Or in this case, a horny Freelancer.

He notably didn't put up much of a fight when Maine's huge paw-like hand closed around his and drew it first up and then back under the elastic of his underwear until he found it trapped between the hard length of Maine's cock and his equally warm hand.

Did this count as the proverbial trapped between a rock and a hard place Wash wondered quixotically to himself.

The combination of that inquiring sounding growl and the slide of Maine's dick rocking up against his palm when the other twitched his hips up grew a defeated groan from the blond man.

"This is a terrible idea." He muttered more to himself than Maine. "You're going to get hurt and then medical is going to get involved and I'm going to be the one who has to tell them you're recovery is set back for x-amount of time because we couldn't keep it in our pants." Wash sounded more grumpy the longer his diatribe continued but his fingers had wrapped around Maine's dick which was a plus and he was sliding them upwards towards the head in a slow, languid stroke.

[themeta]

And then people would know, and they would talk, and the leaderboard would get more important and then and then and then...

Maine growled as he was felt that hand curl around him, fingers gripping, the movement of base to tip in something slow, something he was all about. Worry too much. Which was not a subtle thing that only he knew, but he thought with time, maybe Wash wouldn't. Maybe he'd calm down.

He hadn't yet, so Maine let it go. That over-thinking had saved his life a time or two, so how much could he really be mad?

There was a low hiss, an implied Faster mired between breaths and rattles, but he was careful to keep his hand curled around Wash's but not pulling it up or down. He wanted it to move on its own. He wanted Wash to set the speed even if all Maine wanted to do was just say fuck it and fuck him already. He was holding himself back based on the idea that Wash would be pissed if he didn't.

See? He could follow some directions.

But dammit if his free hand wasn't reaching overhead to grab and clutch to the issued metal bed railings, threatening to pull them off. He wanted him. He wanted this. He wanted everything Wash was willing to give him, which wasn't enough just yet. His teeth ground down, baring themselves as he closed his eyes.

[cryptos]

"I don't worry too much." Wash protested, albeit weakly and tightened his grip around Maine's cock so that he could exert more pressure. He had to be careful that he didn't accidentally scrape the sensitive skin with the calluses most soldiers ended up with even through heavy gloves from handling repeating firearms so much.

When he reached the head, the younger Freelancer trailed his thumb along the underside of the crown in one smooth arch before he reached the very tip. Wash leaned forward a little to press his nose into Maine's shoulder and swirled his thumb along the head and gathered up as much pre-cum as he could to help lubricate the hand job.

The shorter Freelancer huffed quietly, both amused and exasperated all at the same time by the growl which sounded distinctly like the word 'faster'.

"Are we really doing this?" Wash asked breathlessly as he sped up his strokes all the same.

[themeta]

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.

[cryptos]

North probably took the cake when it came to fussing over people. Wash's problem was the fact that he was perhaps the youngest Freelancer and lacked the same level of confident self-assurance the older, more seasoned soldiers did.

That coupled with his almost pathological need to gain approval Command served to make Wash into a tangled little neurotic mess. He knew he wasn't the best fighter and was generally just middle of the road compared to the true stars of the Project.

"God, fine. Just...be careful." He had to struggle for coherence thanks to the warm weight of Maine's hand sneaking back inside his pants to wrap around his cock once again.

The blond man's breath feathered across that ruined and scarred neck in unsteady pants as he instinctively bucked up into his lover's grip.

[themeta]

Maine had won. He had known he would, if only because of history and persistence, but the victory still felt good. Be careful. Be careful and he couldn't help but laugh under his breath. What was he going to do, sprain a wrist? Like it was any worse than getting a clip emptied into his throat?

He rumbled. Yes, mom.. But he smirked a little as he rocked the hand, as he focused on the hurried breath against his neck, as he focused on callouses that brushed but weren't abrasive. His thumb slid along the other's head, and dancing over the slit before moving back down; he sped up if only to make it go faster. Wash probably wasn't up for something that could take an hour.

And Maine could draw it out if he was feeling like a dick.

It had been too long, though, and while he had jerked off in the lonely and bored hours waiting for this, it wasn't the same as being touched by someone else, by someone who knew him, who had learned his quirks, his likes, his dislikes. It wasn't going to take much time, his cock already twitching in the other man's hand, wanting but holding out. Not before Wash. He wasn't going to before his partner.

If he did, then Wash would know he really wasn't feeling well and he would never hear the end of it.

[cryptos]

"Don't be a dick." Wash grumbled into Maine's shoulder before biting down on it even through the thin material of his shirt lightly to further demonstrate his point.

In truth, the younger Freelancer was just too damned tired for marathon sex anyway. Getting off quick and fast sounded pretty good to him right now. Wash's breathing was becoming more and more unsteady as a groan worked its way up his throat.

He tried to muffle it against Maine's shoulder because he didn't want to risk any unwanted attention but it was hard to bite back on his sounds of pleasure when the taller man was digging his thumb into his slit and clearing it of the pre-cum which was steadily starting to leak out of his cock

The blond matched Maine's pace and soon enough he was stroking the other man closer to completion. "M'close," He mumbled and all it took was another couple of strokes before his dick was twitching in Maine's hand. He promptly made a mess inside of his underwear and all over Maine's hand.

Wash couldn't remember the last time he'd come in his own damned pants. What a damned mess.

[themeta]

That bite... that bite was enough to get him to rumble, to get him to feel something. Teeth bared themselves as he tipped his head back, halting only when the skin on his throat protested in a way that stopped adding to it and instead started to take away. Fuck. It seemed he was still human, even if he liked to pretend that he wasn't.

But then Wash was practically using him as a gag, and he couldn't help but smirk. Worth it. That was going to be his thought at the end of this, all of this, and that was good enough.

There was a companionable rumble at the admission, and Maine bucked his hips to signify that he was, too. It was always fun to feel Wash's body tense up, to feel the seconds before he was coming, all over Maine's hand and in his clothing. Warm. Sticky. Thick. A reward for the closest thing he'd get to a mission any time soon.

He might have laughed, if he wasn't waiting for the same thing. After Wash, it was just a matter of seconds, a minute tops with his labored breathing, quick, hitching, before he was coming, too, in the same place. And damn if he didn't care, because after laying there for a moment to calm down, he was simply kicking off pants and underwear alike.

It wasn't as if he was worried about sleeping naked. Anyone who had ever been in a locker room with him knew that he had nothing to be ashamed of.

[cryptos]

Coming felt awesome, even more so when it was at the hands of the taller man. Wash struggled to find the brain cells required to keep up his own stroking pace of the other Freelancer's hard length. Soon enough however, Maine was coming all warm and messy over his hand.

The guilt that filtered through him at both making a mess in his pants and the fact that he and his barely-healed lover couldn't keep their hands off on another was insidious and powerful.

"I need another shower. Ugh, haven't come in my pants like a damned teenager." Wash pulled his messy hand free of Maine's underwear and looked around for something to wipe it off on. But the other Freelancer sort of beat him to the punch by kicking off his now soiled garments so he surreptitiously wiped his hand clean on them before pulling his own sweats and pants down over his hips.

"This was a terrible idea." He accused without any real heat and used his boxers to wipe at the smears of semen streaked across his skin and dick. A flush was steadily turning him all the more pink with embarrassment att eh indignity of their actions.

[themeta]

Maine grunted, because even growling felt like too much effort now that he was sated. Tomorrow. In the morning, they could shower. In the morning, he could try to see if Wash would go again, would stop treating him with kid's gloves, would accept that he was a Freelancer and probably the physically strongest on the team. Wounded? Yes. But he had just proven he wouldn't break apart at the touch of a feather.

Or of another Freelancer.

A large arm slid around Wash as soon as he finished wiping himself off, pulling the smaller man against him as he sighed. This would look really bad if someone should come in. He was sure that some had their suspicions, some wondered why the two of them worked so well when they seemed almost...opposites. And while York had one time brought it up, Maine had simply rolled his eyes and walked away.

It was frowned upon by the Director. Explicitly stated against. Written in by-lines with several different footnotes attached and taught in classes and--Maine had skipped it. Maine had skipped all of it, slept through the lessons, because it seemed stupid and he hadn't cared. It hadn't been a consideration, a thing...

...until Wash was recruited.

Now, they were sleeping in bed together, and one intrusion, one loose lip, one stray bullet, and this could be gone. They would be separated, thrown up with different partners, and trusted to have their backs covered by someone else. It would be better, though; after the implant. Everything would be better...

His fingers tightened as he snorted in that short hair. Tomorrow, they'd take a shower, and tomorrow he would try not to fuck Wash in it, though he made no guarantees. It wouldn't have been the first time he heard moaning echoing off the tiles, barely masked by the roar of the water.

He rumbled in the other's ear. Sleep.