[ he wants to tell locus: quit trying to analyze me. but he knows enough that if he does, that's admitting that locus got under his skin to begin with. it's one thing to let the reds and blues know it; another to let the mercenary know it.
but then, wash was never good at guarding his expressions without the helmet.
he has to bite down on his bottom lip without thinking about it, watching the way locus' hand curls around his cock, moving slow, and the timbre of his voice. damn it. he almost doesn't care that he might be being mocked. ]
What if I said it was?
[ where would that get locus, if he knew? wash breathes out like that'll make the heat less. the gun slips up a little, nudging at the skin under locus' lip. wash isn't sure if he wants to push the barrel of the gun against his mouth, or something else. ]
no subject
but then, wash was never good at guarding his expressions without the helmet.
he has to bite down on his bottom lip without thinking about it, watching the way locus' hand curls around his cock, moving slow, and the timbre of his voice. damn it. he almost doesn't care that he might be being mocked. ]
What if I said it was?
[ where would that get locus, if he knew? wash breathes out like that'll make the heat less. the gun slips up a little, nudging at the skin under locus' lip. wash isn't sure if he wants to push the barrel of the gun against his mouth, or something else. ]