[The kiss steals his breath away having been without it for so long. He dips to catch his own weight, shifts more into Wash holding his arm to keep himself up. But his spine stiffens, goes perfectly straight when Wash starts playing with his wing, squeezes what he has a grip on before his muscles melt at the attention.
God, this-- This is it, this is what he wanted. Duh, of course this is why he came. Tucker wraps his tail around Wash's waist, tucks the tip of it up the back of his shirt and starts nudging him to the bed.]
[Oh, Wash likes when Tucker uses that tail of his. Tucker's turning to jelly when Wash touches him in a way he hasn't before -- sex does good things to him, of course, but this is different. Maybe he's been holding out so it'll be better when they do fuck? Wash can... kind of understand that. Even if Tucker doesn't strike him as as much of the masochist type.
He slides backward onto the bed, practically a puddle, and nips at Tucker's mouth again, chewing his bottom lip and pulling Tucker next to him. He knows how much Tucker likes his wings played with, and maybe it's cheating, but he's banking on that hard, tracing circles into them and stroking along their joints.]
[He whines at the attention, shifts the wing closer to him. Wash is cheating and Tucker knows it and barely cares, it's been ages since anyone's done anything like that with his wings. Everything's fine. This is what he came for, isn't it?
He kisses down, sucks on the side of Wash's neck and pulls at his shirt trying to tug Wash on top of him, sluggish and hungry and tired.]
[Oh, yeah. This must be why Tucker's here. Wash takes the hint, pooling his weight into Tucker's lap and pushing him down against the bed. This is complicated by the fact he keeps gasping and leaning his head away for Tucker's mouth at his throat, but he manages.
He wants Tucker spread out underneath him -- so he can roll his hips down into him gently, rutting against him while Wash's hands splay his wings against the bedsheets, still tracing lines adjacent to the thin bones of it, standing out against the teal skin.]
[Tucker watches him, moves with him because this is what he's made for, knows instinctively where Wash is going and squirms to get comfortable on his back - the one downside to his wings, the only one he ever found, hard as hell to let alone ride him. He nips at a particularly soft spot of skin and plays with Wash's shirt. How mad would he be if he just ripped it? Just a little?
Nah.
It's habit, to roll his hips up against Wash's when he starts moving, don't even have his clothes off yet but he's going for it, lets the tip of his tail settle just at the top of his ass under his pants.]
[Wash considers Tucker's wings, his cloven hooves, the tail, all nice extras. And Tucker's too damn clever with the tail in particular. It features in an uncomfortably large number of Wash's fantasies, now.
He can see Tucker struggling to try to find a good balance between being splayed out under Wash and his wings not too cramped up, though. Wash pulls his hands away for the moment, threading his fingers through Tucker's dreads instead.]
-- sorry. You can make them smaller, if it'd be more comfortable.
[He barely finishes the sentence before Tucker's grinding back against him. Wash shakes his head, as though trying to keep his thoughts straight. It's hard, when he's falling into the easy rhythm of sex.]
[He's almost immersed, just so close to being lost and forgetting why he was holding out but then Wash speaks and it breaks the illusion. Tucker stares up at him dumbly before the words hit and he stops moving to focus on his wings (too tired, too weak to do both at once). He makes them smaller, just barely peeking out past his shoulders, enough to give some balance if he rolls at all and lets his hands roam down to Wash's pants.
If he had the energy, he'd shift to a more human version of himself. For whatever reason Wash fucking likes him like this. Speaking of... He gets a little peek while he's working Wash's pants off.]
[No, he doesn't. It means Wash doesn't have to bring up anything. Especially anything that might be too embarrassing. Tucker just knows, and he teases, but he also always uses what he gleans out of Wash's head.
Wash wriggles out of his jeans. Tucker wears as little as possible any time he can goddamn help it, and this is the only time Wash envies him that. Pulling his legs free, Wash repositions himself against Tucker, now flushed and breath hitching slightly and with an outline of his half-hard cock against his boxer-briefs, too.]
[His smile is weak and strained but he drags the end of his tail around Wash's hip to his front, tucks it down and touches just at the base of his cock. He shifts up, gives a long lick to the side of Wash's chin to his lips.]
E -- [And his voice trembles as Wash full-body shudders, eyes rolling upward for a second. It's not a long touch or a hard one or anything, but -- but it's been a month, and he loves Tucker's stupid cute goddamn tail.] Exactly like that. Yeah.
[But he has to stay focused. He wants to be the one to tease Tucker here, and he's not doing enough of it. Wash catches at Tucker's tongue, sucks at it lightly, drags his teeth along it, before he lets him go again. Makes eye contact with Tucker, keeps it steady.]
[He's about to - he's about to just wrap his tail around and start working him, but something in Wash's voice hits him. The eye contact nails him down and Tucker loses his breath. Wash half-dead under him, Wash watching him as the life drains out of him.
Tucker stills, carefully pulling his tail loose from him, uses a shaky hand to carefully push Wash back.]
I-- [Why this one. Why does he care so fucking much about this damn human, only the second one he's ever made repeat trips to. But his eyes are clear as day as he starts shimmying to get out from underneath him, moving instead to sit up by the headboard and pull his knees up.] I'm pretty beat.
[Not a lie at all, he feels like he's falling apart at the seams.] Sorry, Wash. Maybe after a nap or something?
[Wash peels away from Tucker, brow knit. He's not dumb. He can recognize an excuse. The solution to Tucker being tired is exactly what they'd been doing.
But Wash isn't going to push. If Tucker doesn't want to, that's that. He tries to keep the disappointment off of his face, failing spectacularly. Wash has to throw his walls back up after that. Sex makes him so damn vulnerable. Tucker makes him vulnerable.]
[Fuck and he hates that look on Wash's face, like Tucker actually hurt him not following through. It makes his whole chest ache and that's new, that's entirely new and he doesn't like it.
He flutters his wings once, as if testing out if he's strong enough to go anywhere else, before turning his head to look at the wall. Then back to Wash, tired and small and just as vulnerable.]
If it's cool? Uh- I can crash on the couch if you want me to do that.
What? Jesus, Tucker, you're not in the doghouse because you're too tired for sex.
[That's worrying, but Wash also figures for someone who's never had a committed relationship before Tucker was always going to have some issues to work out.]
We can still sleep together. Er. I mean, not sleep together, but -- sleep -- next to each other together.
[He looks almost relieved at that, shoulders slumping before he looks back to Wash, all apologetic in his eyes and shrinks his wings down even more so they'll be out of the way.]
Thanks. I-- I'd like that, yeah.
[Long enough, he ducks his head down, ears drooping a bit, before starting to tuck himself under the top blanket. Fuck he hates this.]
[Well, good. He's not going anywhere, at least. Wash enjoys his company just as much as the sex, but it always seems prudent to give Tucker the energy boost before anything else. Wash slides under the covers with him, hesitating before -- carefully -- putting an arm around his waist.]
... you want to, uh, talk about anything?
[A rare offer from Wash, mister allergic to feelings.]
[He fucked that up didn't he? One day he'll get the hang of human conversations.]
I will.
...Thanks. [He settles in to where he is, lets his tail reach behind and wrap around Wash's waist. An olive branch for the shit he just did to the poor guy. It doesn't take but a minute or two of soaking up the warmth before he's asleep (at night, what the hell is wrong with him, sleeping at night), settled and comfortable there.]
[Tucker's exhausted. Wash sleeps a little, wakes up too goddamn early like he always does, and Tucker's still there, passed the fuck out. Wash tries to slip out without waking him up, but that's hardly an issue, as out cold as Tucker is.
Wash makes breakfast. Wash feeds his cats. Wash idly reads the news for a while. Nothing of real importance. Mostly he just... waits for Tucker.]
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shorterpass2016-03-18 02:24 pm
it's ok that's the only one I've got tbh
God, this-- This is it, this is what he wanted. Duh, of course this is why he came. Tucker wraps his tail around Wash's waist, tucks the tip of it up the back of his shirt and starts nudging him to the bed.]
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He slides backward onto the bed, practically a puddle, and nips at Tucker's mouth again, chewing his bottom lip and pulling Tucker next to him. He knows how much Tucker likes his wings played with, and maybe it's cheating, but he's banking on that hard, tracing circles into them and stroking along their joints.]
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He kisses down, sucks on the side of Wash's neck and pulls at his shirt trying to tug Wash on top of him, sluggish and hungry and tired.]
Wash...
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He wants Tucker spread out underneath him -- so he can roll his hips down into him gently, rutting against him while Wash's hands splay his wings against the bedsheets, still tracing lines adjacent to the thin bones of it, standing out against the teal skin.]
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Nah.
It's habit, to roll his hips up against Wash's when he starts moving, don't even have his clothes off yet but he's going for it, lets the tip of his tail settle just at the top of his ass under his pants.]
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He can see Tucker struggling to try to find a good balance between being splayed out under Wash and his wings not too cramped up, though. Wash pulls his hands away for the moment, threading his fingers through Tucker's dreads instead.]
-- sorry. You can make them smaller, if it'd be more comfortable.
[He barely finishes the sentence before Tucker's grinding back against him. Wash shakes his head, as though trying to keep his thoughts straight. It's hard, when he's falling into the easy rhythm of sex.]
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If he had the energy, he'd shift to a more human version of himself. For whatever reason Wash fucking likes him like this. Speaking of... He gets a little peek while he's working Wash's pants off.]
Been thinkin' about the tail a lot huh.
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[No, he doesn't. It means Wash doesn't have to bring up anything. Especially anything that might be too embarrassing. Tucker just knows, and he teases, but he also always uses what he gleans out of Wash's head.
Wash wriggles out of his jeans. Tucker wears as little as possible any time he can goddamn help it, and this is the only time Wash envies him that. Pulling his legs free, Wash repositions himself against Tucker, now flushed and breath hitching slightly and with an outline of his half-hard cock against his boxer-briefs, too.]
Maybe I like when you use your tail on me.
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[His smile is weak and strained but he drags the end of his tail around Wash's hip to his front, tucks it down and touches just at the base of his cock. He shifts up, gives a long lick to the side of Wash's chin to his lips.]
Like that?
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[But he has to stay focused. He wants to be the one to tease Tucker here, and he's not doing enough of it. Wash catches at Tucker's tongue, sucks at it lightly, drags his teeth along it, before he lets him go again. Makes eye contact with Tucker, keeps it steady.]
Please.
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Tucker stills, carefully pulling his tail loose from him, uses a shaky hand to carefully push Wash back.]
I-- [Why this one. Why does he care so fucking much about this damn human, only the second one he's ever made repeat trips to. But his eyes are clear as day as he starts shimmying to get out from underneath him, moving instead to sit up by the headboard and pull his knees up.] I'm pretty beat.
[Not a lie at all, he feels like he's falling apart at the seams.] Sorry, Wash. Maybe after a nap or something?
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Yeah. Okay.
[Wash peels away from Tucker, brow knit. He's not dumb. He can recognize an excuse. The solution to Tucker being tired is exactly what they'd been doing.
But Wash isn't going to push. If Tucker doesn't want to, that's that. He tries to keep the disappointment off of his face, failing spectacularly. Wash has to throw his walls back up after that. Sex makes him so damn vulnerable. Tucker makes him vulnerable.]
You want to stay here?
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He flutters his wings once, as if testing out if he's strong enough to go anywhere else, before turning his head to look at the wall. Then back to Wash, tired and small and just as vulnerable.]
If it's cool? Uh- I can crash on the couch if you want me to do that.
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[That's worrying, but Wash also figures for someone who's never had a committed relationship before Tucker was always going to have some issues to work out.]
We can still sleep together. Er. I mean, not sleep together, but -- sleep -- next to each other together.
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Thanks. I-- I'd like that, yeah.
[Long enough, he ducks his head down, ears drooping a bit, before starting to tuck himself under the top blanket. Fuck he hates this.]
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... you want to, uh, talk about anything?
[A rare offer from Wash, mister allergic to feelings.]
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He sure as hell is not going to talk about why he just bailed on the one thing he's good at.]
Mm. Why? Did you want to?
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He just... hoped Tucker would want to tell him what was wrong anyway. Overestimated their relationship again. Wash needs to stop doing that.]
Well, tell me if you need anything, at least? More pillows, or something.
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I will.
...Thanks. [He settles in to where he is, lets his tail reach behind and wrap around Wash's waist. An olive branch for the shit he just did to the poor guy. It doesn't take but a minute or two of soaking up the warmth before he's asleep (at night, what the hell is wrong with him, sleeping at night), settled and comfortable there.]
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Wash makes breakfast. Wash feeds his cats. Wash idly reads the news for a while. Nothing of real importance. Mostly he just... waits for Tucker.]