[ wash's scars may not be as numerous as locus', but they are there - most prominently the puckered bullet scars through each shoulder - one an entry hole, the other an exit. the rest are smaller and more faded - what might have been an energy sword cutting over one arm, what looks like a glancing knife wound on his wrist.
they all have stories to them. wash isn't sharing them right now, not with locus under him and snarling, rolling his hips up. wash squeezes his thighs together and rolls his hips down, not quite pressing them together but - there's at least friction, something to rub up against.
He bites again at Locus' bottom lip - all but trying to make him bleed, apparently, and reaches down with one hand to start unlatching the armor on his own legs, the other planting it on Locus' broad chest.
no subject
they all have stories to them. wash isn't sharing them right now, not with locus under him and snarling, rolling his hips up. wash squeezes his thighs together and rolls his hips down, not quite pressing them together but - there's at least friction, something to rub up against.
He bites again at Locus' bottom lip - all but trying to make him bleed, apparently, and reaches down with one hand to start unlatching the armor on his own legs, the other planting it on Locus' broad chest.