[ he can give wash looks all he want. wash is the one still in his armor, and with the gun. at least, that's what wash tells himself to feel like he has control of the situation. like this isn't the result of rapidly spiraling loss of control, and they're just both lucky they haven't decided the best way to get off is to kill the other. ]
No, you really don't.
[ the threat is implicit. over too soon and wash may decide whether he's shooting or bagging locus back. except that the heat running through his veins wouldn't make that such a cut and dry decision.
he watches him closely, the way he adds his nails to the mix, reaches down to palm himself. already, the thoughts are changing. he could reach down and touch. he could easily get his own armor off too.
the heat finally gets to him enough that he reaches up with his free hand, pops the latches on his helmet and tugs it off - revealing hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, cheeks far too red. wash's face gives away much more with the helmet off, like how his eyes track locus' hands. ]
no subject
No, you really don't.
[ the threat is implicit. over too soon and wash may decide whether he's shooting or bagging locus back. except that the heat running through his veins wouldn't make that such a cut and dry decision.
he watches him closely, the way he adds his nails to the mix, reaches down to palm himself. already, the thoughts are changing. he could reach down and touch. he could easily get his own armor off too.
the heat finally gets to him enough that he reaches up with his free hand, pops the latches on his helmet and tugs it off - revealing hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, cheeks far too red. wash's face gives away much more with the helmet off, like how his eyes track locus' hands. ]