You're not going to. [Well, maybe if he's with him that long. But Wash has never been planning to go in his sleep. He's ex-military now, but that doesn't change that he's expecting a bullet to do the job, not a heart attack.
With Tucker's face buried into the pillow, Wash doesn't have to train his face calm. He's free to furrow his brow while he tries to find the words that'll make this right. This whole time, Tucker's been fucking himself up on Wash's account. Wash isn't any good at talking to other people -- how is he meant to explain how much he wants this? To be just like they'd been?]
Tucker, I'd rather live a year or a few years less if the years I do get are with you.
[Tucker stills. The thought hits straight to his core, some part of him he forgot existed when Church died the first time. Someone actually wants to stick with him. A human wanting to stay with a life-sucking monster because it chooses to. He turns his head to look sidelong at him, eyes a little wet.]
... Dumbass.
[TucKER.]
Thought humans did shit to live longer, not die faster.
[Not that he seems to genuinely be affronted by the insult. Wash leans down to press a kiss to his hairline.]
Well. Some humans are just fucked up enough to work the wrong way. [A long pause again. He hadn't really expected it to work. Wash crawls a hand across the bed to run along Tucker's side, instead, feeling him out.]
[But he closes his eyes at the kiss - missed that intimacy, those little things. Not that he'd ever say it. Tucker squirms under his hand trying to get comfortable again.]
You're seriously... Really okay with this. With me eating your life away.
[An offhanded shrug.] I could take up smoking or drinking and it'd be even worse for me. I think of all the destructive habits I could have, having sex with you is one of the more benign.
And -- [yeah, that was kind of noncommittal, wasn't it. He cares about you, Wash. Show him the same.] yes. I'm okay with this.
[At least he's sitting up now. Wash shoots him an actual smile. He's still processing whatever the hell it is going on here, but they seem to have fixed it? That's -- well, that's a victory, alright, with Wash's negotiating skills.
The hand on Tucker migrates to the small of his back, pulling Tucker in against him. Just to be close, that's all.]
[Then Tucker better enjoy the spoils. Wash snorts, the pair of them winding around each other, Wash absently reaching to scratch at the base of Tucker's wings.]
Well, technically they were right. That's the fault of biology, though, not your tolerance.
[He loves Tucker like this, all gooey and happy. It's definitely incentive to keep scratching, getting right where the soft-leather wings meet Tucker's skin.]
You're not missing much. All of it tastes like being punched in the face.
Mmm. [Tucker arches his back into the touch before slowly moving to lay across Wash's lap. Anything to stay comfortable like this; he's still exhausted.]
Maybe, but they don't know that.
[Oh no. Tucker had waited until he was away from them to puke it back up.]
[Wash moves his legs for Tucker to splay himself across his thighs. He's been so damn bone-tired lately, Tucker sleeping at all hours instead of during day.
It occurs to him, then, that maybe he won't have the energy for sex at all -- which might, metaphorically, fuck them.
So it's down to him to make it happen. Wash takes his hands back, runs them deliberately forward and along Tucker's hips, thumbs tracing their outline.]
Yep. Can't let them know it, they'd take advantage.
[Like Wash is now. Not that Tucker's minding it right now. It's been a while since he's been touched like this, let anyone touch him like this, it's nice. He definitely doesn't have the energy to initiate anything himself, but Wash is doing fine starting on his own.]
[He wants Tucker vibrant again. He's always been lazy, obviously, but he's never gotten used to him this faint. Feels wrong.
... well, okay, and Wash has missed sex. He'd gotten used to it. Leaning over Tucker in his lap, he's in the perfect spot to reacquaint himself with Tucker's body, to skate his hands along the outside of his thighs. Just the outside, for now. Doesn't want things too abrupt.]
[He hums easily, feels that rolling want off Wash and shifts to be more comfortable. Lets Wash get to him more easily. Has to work to keep his wings out of the way though.
He almost sounds breathless when he talks, like Wash's touches are the first fresh drink of water in the desert.]
[Fuck. Wash still isn't good at voicing his desires, not until the hormones knock him TOTALLY stupid, anyway, and unable to remember shame.
Their options are limited only by the fact Tucker's tired. Honestly, Wash doesn't mind the excuse. He's missed touching Tucker direly, missed knowing what it felt like to be this close to him.]
Let me think about that. Right now I just want this.
[Just the closeness. If Wash wants to revive Tucker, you bet he'll take the lead. He busies himself running his palms across Tucker's hips, up his sides, across his chest, collarbone. Reminding himself about how damn good skin contact is.]
[Tucker practically purrs at the attention, leans into it where he can. It's been too long since he let Wash just touch him. God he wishes he wasn't so exhausted, he'd do a lot more than just lay back and let him have this.]
Just this, huh? You sure?
[He can at least work with his tail. That takes almost no effort, wrapping it around Wash's waist and playing with the waistband of his pants. Not even going further, just teasing, as much as he has the energy to.]
Oh, shit. [Fucking Tucker. He knows how weak Wash is to his tail. Just something about it coming out of nowhere like that.]
I -- might want those gone. [Wash squirms a little as the point of Tucker's tail slips just barely into his pants. At least Tucker barely wears clothes. Embarrassing? Yes, extremely. But it makes it very easy to get down to business. Which is, of course, why he does it.]
You're going to have to get off of me if I'm going to take off my pants.
Ughhh. [He groans, pulling at his shirt.] Help me up.
[Christ, the things he does for sex.
Sex with someone he really, genuinely cares about. It's been a long time since he's thought like that. He pulls himself up, noses against Wash's cheek before carefully shifting off his lap and leaning back against the headboard.]
Come on. It's a small price to pay to get me naked. Right?
[Two can play Tucker's game. Wash has learned how by now.
Wash, carefully, gets his arms around Tucker and helps hoist him to a sit, grabbing a quick kiss when Tucker bunts against his cheek. He wrestles off his pants, takes the time to fold them and set them aside. Getting to the sex is urgent, but not that urgent, okay?
[Heat blossoms and flows through him fast at the kiss and he barely wants to break away from it, wants to sink into that warmth and drown in it. He's almost breathless when Wash asks. He looks him over, eyes already dark and wanting.]
Probably better to now before we get too busy later.
[Because there is definitely going to be a 'later' in so many ways.]
[Oh, their entire night is going to be that promising later. Tucker's starving, and if he's honest, Wash is too.
Wash peels away his underwear, trying, at least, to look sexy while he does it instead of just desperate to get to the good parts. He's already embarrassingly hard as he leans back to Tucker, pulling him back in against him and pressing their lips together. He missed this.]
[God, he's almost done in just watching him strip down, a gooey handful of clay leaning into the kiss. He missed this so much. God the things he would do to keep Wash alone to himself like this. Just to keep him close and warm and all skin like this.
Christ, he doesn't even have his shirt off yet.
It's a flip that's switched - a month of holding back and now he can't break away.] 's great. Perfect. [He can't bring himself to pull away, kissing at Wash's jaw, neck. Pressing hands to his waist trying to get closer even as tired as he is.]
[Wash has forgotten about his shirt entirely. What's more important is the skin contact he IS getting with Tucker: the way he's mouthing at his throat, his palms just above Wash's hips tugging them together.
But every move Tucker makes is sluggish with exhaustion. He must be goddamn ravenous. So Wash better do something about that.
What he does is skim a hand down Tucker's side, along his hip, the outside of his thigh. Just barely between his legs. He's not trying to tease too badly... just give them some leadup.]
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shorterpass2016-03-18 02:24 pm
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With Tucker's face buried into the pillow, Wash doesn't have to train his face calm. He's free to furrow his brow while he tries to find the words that'll make this right. This whole time, Tucker's been fucking himself up on Wash's account. Wash isn't any good at talking to other people -- how is he meant to explain how much he wants this? To be just like they'd been?]
Tucker, I'd rather live a year or a few years less if the years I do get are with you.
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... Dumbass.
[TucKER.]
Thought humans did shit to live longer, not die faster.
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[Not that he seems to genuinely be affronted by the insult. Wash leans down to press a kiss to his hairline.]
Well. Some humans are just fucked up enough to work the wrong way. [A long pause again. He hadn't really expected it to work. Wash crawls a hand across the bed to run along Tucker's side, instead, feeling him out.]
You gonna stop starving yourself?
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[But he closes his eyes at the kiss - missed that intimacy, those little things. Not that he'd ever say it. Tucker squirms under his hand trying to get comfortable again.]
You're seriously... Really okay with this. With me eating your life away.
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And -- [yeah, that was kind of noncommittal, wasn't it. He cares about you, Wash. Show him the same.] yes. I'm okay with this.
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Long as you're sure.
...Drinking's pretty fun from what I've seen at least. Not 's fun as sex, but still.
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[At least he's sitting up now. Wash shoots him an actual smile. He's still processing whatever the hell it is going on here, but they seem to have fixed it? That's -- well, that's a victory, alright, with Wash's negotiating skills.
The hand on Tucker migrates to the small of his back, pulling Tucker in against him. Just to be close, that's all.]
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Nah, I tried once. Got sick as hell after a couple sips.
[Fuuuuck, that smile though. He works so hard to get that smile out of him.]
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Was this with Church?
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No, it was when we met Grif and Simmons. Didn't think I could handle it, keep it down.
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[He loves Tucker like this, all gooey and happy. It's definitely incentive to keep scratching, getting right where the soft-leather wings meet Tucker's skin.]
You're not missing much. All of it tastes like being punched in the face.
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Maybe, but they don't know that.
[Oh no. Tucker had waited until he was away from them to puke it back up.]
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[Wash moves his legs for Tucker to splay himself across his thighs. He's been so damn bone-tired lately, Tucker sleeping at all hours instead of during day.
It occurs to him, then, that maybe he won't have the energy for sex at all -- which might, metaphorically, fuck them.
So it's down to him to make it happen. Wash takes his hands back, runs them deliberately forward and along Tucker's hips, thumbs tracing their outline.]
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[Like Wash is now. Not that Tucker's minding it right now. It's been a while since he's been touched like this, let anyone touch him like this, it's nice. He definitely doesn't have the energy to initiate anything himself, but Wash is doing fine starting on his own.]
Feeling like you need something, huh?
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[He wants Tucker vibrant again. He's always been lazy, obviously, but he's never gotten used to him this faint. Feels wrong.
... well, okay, and Wash has missed sex. He'd gotten used to it. Leaning over Tucker in his lap, he's in the perfect spot to reacquaint himself with Tucker's body, to skate his hands along the outside of his thighs. Just the outside, for now. Doesn't want things too abrupt.]
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He almost sounds breathless when he talks, like Wash's touches are the first fresh drink of water in the desert.]
What do you wanna do?
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[Fuck. Wash still isn't good at voicing his desires, not until the hormones knock him TOTALLY stupid, anyway, and unable to remember shame.
Their options are limited only by the fact Tucker's tired. Honestly, Wash doesn't mind the excuse. He's missed touching Tucker direly, missed knowing what it felt like to be this close to him.]
Let me think about that. Right now I just want this.
[Just the closeness. If Wash wants to revive Tucker, you bet he'll take the lead. He busies himself running his palms across Tucker's hips, up his sides, across his chest, collarbone. Reminding himself about how damn good skin contact is.]
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Just this, huh? You sure?
[He can at least work with his tail. That takes almost no effort, wrapping it around Wash's waist and playing with the waistband of his pants. Not even going further, just teasing, as much as he has the energy to.]
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I -- might want those gone. [Wash squirms a little as the point of Tucker's tail slips just barely into his pants. At least Tucker barely wears clothes. Embarrassing? Yes, extremely. But it makes it very easy to get down to business. Which is, of course, why he does it.]
You're going to have to get off of me if I'm going to take off my pants.
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[Christ, the things he does for sex.
Sex with someone he really, genuinely cares about. It's been a long time since he's thought like that. He pulls himself up, noses against Wash's cheek before carefully shifting off his lap and leaning back against the headboard.]
Still debating the shirt.
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[Two can play Tucker's game. Wash has learned how by now.
Wash, carefully, gets his arms around Tucker and helps hoist him to a sit, grabbing a quick kiss when Tucker bunts against his cheek. He wrestles off his pants, takes the time to fold them and set them aside. Getting to the sex is urgent, but not that urgent, okay?
Speaking of urgency...]
You, uh... want my briefs off now, or later?
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Probably better to now before we get too busy later.
[Because there is definitely going to be a 'later' in so many ways.]
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Wash peels away his underwear, trying, at least, to look sexy while he does it instead of just desperate to get to the good parts. He's already embarrassingly hard as he leans back to Tucker, pulling him back in against him and pressing their lips together. He missed this.]
That good? [he asks, voice low.]
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Christ, he doesn't even have his shirt off yet.
It's a flip that's switched - a month of holding back and now he can't break away.] 's great. Perfect. [He can't bring himself to pull away, kissing at Wash's jaw, neck. Pressing hands to his waist trying to get closer even as tired as he is.]
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But every move Tucker makes is sluggish with exhaustion. He must be goddamn ravenous. So Wash better do something about that.
What he does is skim a hand down Tucker's side, along his hip, the outside of his thigh. Just barely between his legs. He's not trying to tease too badly... just give them some leadup.]
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