[ the urgency has increased tenfold, it feels, when they're actually pressed together. this, this is what he wants, heat and warm skin, the scent of sweat and the muskier scent of what's under the kevlar - battle sweat.
wash laughs, almost a rasp when locus tells him not to stop, squeezes his hand a little harder and then pumps up, then down, slicking precome down both their shafts. ]
Wasn't planning on it.
[ it's rough, almost a whisper, like wash isn't used to talking during this. his teeth are sharp again on the side of locus' neck, leaving a little welt as he muffles a moan when he starts stroking them again in earnest.
he isn't going slow, is the thing. it's firm and purposeful, a hint of frantic energy in the sweaty grasp of his palm. he wants to get off, to sate this fire.
it isn't going to work, not that he knows that yet. ]
bow chicka... bow wow?
wash laughs, almost a rasp when locus tells him not to stop, squeezes his hand a little harder and then pumps up, then down, slicking precome down both their shafts. ]
Wasn't planning on it.
[ it's rough, almost a whisper, like wash isn't used to talking during this. his teeth are sharp again on the side of locus' neck, leaving a little welt as he muffles a moan when he starts stroking them again in earnest.
he isn't going slow, is the thing. it's firm and purposeful, a hint of frantic energy in the sweaty grasp of his palm. he wants to get off, to sate this fire.
it isn't going to work, not that he knows that yet. ]