[ 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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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. ]