[ the rest of the armor falls away - wash's pieces are far more scattered than locus' armor, and that might be a problem later but it isn't a problem right now. they both just have the half suits, locus' pulled further down than wash's.
he tenses his back into the touch when locus scratches him though, the blunt pain sending sensations that translate into pleasure by the time they hit his brain.
wash shoves his own kevlar down until his cock is exposed - hard and curving upwards. he wants to do so much more than what he starts with, but what he starts with is shifting his hips down until he can press their cocks together, the hand not on locus' shoulder coming down to wrap loosely around them. it makes a noise escape from the back of his throat, the sound lost against the skin of locus' jaw. ]
[ He swears there are stars in his eyes when his head slams back, jaw going slack as wash presses them together, skin to oversensitive skin, and it's the best thing in the world. It feels better than absolution, the drag of warm, velvety skin, damp where Locus has begun leaking precome since some time ago, and he digs his heels in. He pushes up into that hold, encourages it.
He needs this more than air to breathe. He needs-- ]
Don't stop.
[ It's growled out, even if he's not looking at him, even if his teeth are gritted and he's simply rutting against that delicious friction as urgently as he's able to. ]
[ 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. ]
[ Locus has given up on fighting any part of it, at least. It's not that it feels too good not to, but simply that it feels too much. There's no room for rational thought when Washington's hand squeezes, and that pressure has another low, rough sound scraping free of his throat.
Yes. That. More of that, and then maybe...maybe...
One eye slits open, just enough to watch Wash as his hips rock up into the grasp of his palm, the squeeze of his fingers, again and again, rubbing slick against his cock and feeling that pressure wind tighter and tighter in his gut.
Soon. Let it be soon, it feels like his skin might actually catch fire if not. ]
[ wash grips locus' shoulder tightly as he strokes them both, feeling the way the heat curls over his skin. he doesn't expect this to last long, not with what he wants. there's a feeling that he hasn't felt in a while - an edge of violence, but he's cautious enough to not let that loose.
he raises his head after a moment, looking at locus, at the scars that cross over his face as he moves his hand. his other hand moves, fingers sliding up along the side of his neck so his thumb can touch locus' bottom lip again. ]
Was this what you kept staring at me for?
[ back when he thought locus was just a vicious mercenary and not a murderer. that intense stare he could feel through helmets in the fed base. ]
[ His fixation had been evident...but for a number of reasons. Had he considered what Washington would be like if pinned down, if backed into a corner and threatened, if he liked it and pressed forward instead of back? Maybe. That was irrelevant at the moment.
Instead, both eyes open, staring up at him as he pants quietly for breath, hips hitching up and that slick sound stirring the still, stifling air around them. ]
Would that thought please you?
[ It's almost derisive, the way he says it, but it can't quite make it all the way there. Not when he's riding that edge, a breath away from coming. Not when the answer might make Wash stop. ]
[ normally, wash would say no - the thought would not please him. he doesn't like the idea of locus lusting after him - normally. right now, the idea of locus watching, wanting, actually makes something flare up in his stomach.
he pumps a little bit harder, which makes his body shudder. ]
Not a lot surprises me anymore.
[ be derisive all you want, locus, apparently it's doing it for wash. he closes his eyes, swiping his thumb over his head, over the head of locus' cock. he rocks his hips and it doesn't take much beyond that. his breathing stutters as he twitches and comes - apparently more of the quiet type. ]
[ Locus watches as Wash comes apart at the seams, those cracks visible for a brief moment as he shudders, and though there's little noise he can see the moment he reaches completion, the way it spreads over his face, and warmth splashes against his stomach.
Such restraint. Somehow dignified in this, this carnal scrabbling for something physical on the ground, in the woods, and Locus bites into his lower lip and twitches. Hard. His fingers curl tight, nails biting into Washington's skin, and a second later? There's a second burst of heat and wet spattering across his skin, along with a relief that's akin to a much-needed stretch.
But satisfaction? No. Not quite there yet. The moment his breath slows and his thoughts recollect enough to realize this? He lets out a disgruntled sound and lets his head fall back once more.
[ the desire, the need doesn't stop. it's banked for a moment, but it doesn't go away. wash is catching his breath, fingers still curled loosely around them - and they're still hard, even with their combined release spilled over his hand.
wash gives a frustrated noise, opening his eyes and looking at locus. he can think a little clearer, but it's still muddled in the end. ]
What the hell is going on.
[ it's not a question, not really, as he unhands them both... and licks his hand without thinking about it to clean it. ]
[ He's quiet for a long while, chest rising and falling deeply as he pants for air, trying to gather himself. What was going on? What could have come over them to fall to this, to continue to need... ]
The temple.
[ It strikes him in a brief moment of clarity. One of the temples was meant to induce the need to procreate in the population, to inspire ravenous sexual need. And 'ravenous' is a pretty damn good word for it. What they've done so far feels like taking the first bite of a meal, after weeks of starvation.
He needs. Washington does as well. His eyes open just in time to watch his tongue lap across his palm, and the sight sends a shudder through him. That tongue... ]
[ locus is right. the temple that causes procreation. wash gives a gentle huff when he thinks of it. how did carolina let tucker turn that thing on? and why didn't they give him a heads up?
locus shudders under him, and wash looks to see him watching him. after a moment, it goes from simple cleaning to something he's doing on purpose, letting his tongue run up one of his dirtied fingers and keeping his gaze on locus. ]
You. Are doing that on purpose. Do not pretend otherwise.
[ There's barely any gray left to his eyes, as large as his pupils have grown. This urge, this feeling, isn't going anywhere. It's only growing in intensity, pushing everything else to the wayside. However he feels about Washington, the only thing that matters now is that they're both undressed, pressed tight and sweat-slick against one another, and perfectly able to continue.
With a snarl he reaches for Wash, drags him up until his mouth seals against his, and he can taste himself on the Freelancer's lips. There's a sensation he'd never expected to feel. ]
[ he says, before curling his tongue against the tip of one finger. yes, he knows exactly what he's doing and he doesn't mind being a little shit about it. the urge makes it easy to fall back on behaviors he'd learned with other partners.
the temple means that it's easy to stay pressed closed to locus, to not draw away. oh, he's still well aware and suspicious, but the urge is too strong to fight.
and then locus drags him in close, and wash braces a hand on his chest, feeling the way their mouths crush together. he presses his teeth into that bottom lip in response, trying to wrest control back into his hands. ]
[ Hard to talk when they're kissing. Biting. Whatever it is they're doing, something that seems more akin to the give and take, ebb and flow of a fight. It hardly seems to matter, and Locus drags his hips upwards, his cock sliding against Wash's in his own purposeful advance. ]
...should be focused on finding a way...to end this.
[ And what they've done thus far is insufficient. More seems the key. ]
[ hips rock up, that cock sliding against his, and while wash never really flagged it makes his blood surge again. teeth slide against his lips and wash grunts under his breath.
a way to end this? he's not really sure that there is an end. if the goal is reproduction, they'll most likely find that lacking here. ]
I think the only endings we've got involve happy ones.
[ look, he learned something from tucker. he reaches down to palm against both of them with another noise, but he's not going at it in earnest. it's something to bank the urge. ]
[ Not that he's terribly aware of what will and won't work for this. Never really had been a subject he gave much thought to in his spare time. More the pity now.
Locus's eyes narrow as he stares at Wash, clearly trying to think through this consuming haze. Absently, a hand moves between them to slide over Wash's, to curl over their cocks where they still touch, because touch is needed. Touch is everything. ]
You?
potential ideas: spit for lube, as trite as it is. thighfucking ?
[ touch distracts wash for a long moment, making his breathing stutter sharply against the feel of locus' hand against them. his eyes are lidded, watching locus and - there's a part of him that still roils with anger. the other part is enjoying it. ]
Just for guns.
[ which could work, in a pinch, but isn't ideal. okay, there's other stuff. won't make it easy, but it'll work at least. he curls his had more around locus' cock than his own, giving it a slow jerk before he moves back. ]
Keep your hands off the back of my neck.
[ mostly that's... a helpful warning to not get his wrists broken, as wash slides off where he's been in locus' lap and away from his hand. hands braced on locus' thighs, he leans down to drag his tongue over the head of locus' cock. ]
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i'm so used to writing Sexy Time Dialogue that having a character who doesn't feels weird
he tenses his back into the touch when locus scratches him though, the blunt pain sending sensations that translate into pleasure by the time they hit his brain.
wash shoves his own kevlar down until his cock is exposed - hard and curving upwards. he wants to do so much more than what he starts with, but what he starts with is shifting his hips down until he can press their cocks together, the hand not on locus' shoulder coming down to wrap loosely around them. it makes a noise escape from the back of his throat, the sound lost against the skin of locus' jaw. ]
oh, wash has got it in there somewhere i'm sure
He needs this more than air to breathe. He needs-- ]
Don't stop.
[ It's growled out, even if he's not looking at him, even if his teeth are gritted and he's simply rutting against that delicious friction as urgently as he's able to. ]
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. ]
no subject
Yes. That. More of that, and then maybe...maybe...
One eye slits open, just enough to watch Wash as his hips rock up into the grasp of his palm, the squeeze of his fingers, again and again, rubbing slick against his cock and feeling that pressure wind tighter and tighter in his gut.
Soon. Let it be soon, it feels like his skin might actually catch fire if not. ]
no subject
he raises his head after a moment, looking at locus, at the scars that cross over his face as he moves his hand. his other hand moves, fingers sliding up along the side of his neck so his thumb can touch locus' bottom lip again. ]
Was this what you kept staring at me for?
[ back when he thought locus was just a vicious mercenary and not a murderer. that intense stare he could feel through helmets in the fed base. ]
no subject
Instead, both eyes open, staring up at him as he pants quietly for breath, hips hitching up and that slick sound stirring the still, stifling air around them. ]
Would that thought please you?
[ It's almost derisive, the way he says it, but it can't quite make it all the way there. Not when he's riding that edge, a breath away from coming. Not when the answer might make Wash stop. ]
no subject
[ normally, wash would say no - the thought would not please him. he doesn't like the idea of locus lusting after him - normally. right now, the idea of locus watching, wanting, actually makes something flare up in his stomach.
he pumps a little bit harder, which makes his body shudder. ]
Not a lot surprises me anymore.
[ be derisive all you want, locus, apparently it's doing it for wash. he closes his eyes, swiping his thumb over his head, over the head of locus' cock. he rocks his hips and it doesn't take much beyond that. his breathing stutters as he twitches and comes - apparently more of the quiet type. ]
no subject
Such restraint. Somehow dignified in this, this carnal scrabbling for something physical on the ground, in the woods, and Locus bites into his lower lip and twitches. Hard. His fingers curl tight, nails biting into Washington's skin, and a second later? There's a second burst of heat and wet spattering across his skin, along with a relief that's akin to a much-needed stretch.
But satisfaction? No. Not quite there yet. The moment his breath slows and his thoughts recollect enough to realize this? He lets out a disgruntled sound and lets his head fall back once more.
This is going to be a long night. ]
no subject
wash gives a frustrated noise, opening his eyes and looking at locus. he can think a little clearer, but it's still muddled in the end. ]
What the hell is going on.
[ it's not a question, not really, as he unhands them both... and licks his hand without thinking about it to clean it. ]
no subject
The temple.
[ It strikes him in a brief moment of clarity. One of the temples was meant to induce the need to procreate in the population, to inspire ravenous sexual need. And 'ravenous' is a pretty damn good word for it. What they've done so far feels like taking the first bite of a meal, after weeks of starvation.
He needs. Washington does as well. His eyes open just in time to watch his tongue lap across his palm, and the sight sends a shudder through him. That tongue... ]
no subject
locus shudders under him, and wash looks to see him watching him. after a moment, it goes from simple cleaning to something he's doing on purpose, letting his tongue run up one of his dirtied fingers and keeping his gaze on locus. ]
Something got your attention?
no subject
[ There's barely any gray left to his eyes, as large as his pupils have grown. This urge, this feeling, isn't going anywhere. It's only growing in intensity, pushing everything else to the wayside. However he feels about Washington, the only thing that matters now is that they're both undressed, pressed tight and sweat-slick against one another, and perfectly able to continue.
With a snarl he reaches for Wash, drags him up until his mouth seals against his, and he can taste himself on the Freelancer's lips. There's a sensation he'd never expected to feel. ]
no subject
[ he says, before curling his tongue against the tip of one finger. yes, he knows exactly what he's doing and he doesn't mind being a little shit about it. the urge makes it easy to fall back on behaviors he'd learned with other partners.
the temple means that it's easy to stay pressed closed to locus, to not draw away. oh, he's still well aware and suspicious, but the urge is too strong to fight.
and then locus drags him in close, and wash braces a hand on his chest, feeling the way their mouths crush together. he presses his teeth into that bottom lip in response, trying to wrest control back into his hands. ]
no subject
[ Hard to talk when they're kissing. Biting. Whatever it is they're doing, something that seems more akin to the give and take, ebb and flow of a fight. It hardly seems to matter, and Locus drags his hips upwards, his cock sliding against Wash's in his own purposeful advance. ]
...should be focused on finding a way...to end this.
[ And what they've done thus far is insufficient. More seems the key. ]
no subject
a way to end this? he's not really sure that there is an end. if the goal is reproduction, they'll most likely find that lacking here. ]
I think the only endings we've got involve happy ones.
[ look, he learned something from tucker. he reaches down to palm against both of them with another noise, but he's not going at it in earnest. it's something to bank the urge. ]
You have anything that can work for lube?
no subject
[ Not that he's terribly aware of what will and won't work for this. Never really had been a subject he gave much thought to in his spare time. More the pity now.
Locus's eyes narrow as he stares at Wash, clearly trying to think through this consuming haze. Absently, a hand moves between them to slide over Wash's, to curl over their cocks where they still touch, because touch is needed. Touch is everything. ]
You?
potential ideas: spit for lube, as trite as it is. thighfucking ?
Just for guns.
[ which could work, in a pinch, but isn't ideal. okay, there's other stuff. won't make it easy, but it'll work at least. he curls his had more around locus' cock than his own, giving it a slow jerk before he moves back. ]
Keep your hands off the back of my neck.
[ mostly that's... a helpful warning to not get his wrists broken, as wash slides off where he's been in locus' lap and away from his hand. hands braced on locus' thighs, he leans down to drag his tongue over the head of locus' cock. ]