goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Maybe just a little." Another soft kiss. "Maybe a lot."

He chuckles a little, the sound strained. "Maybe the feeling is mutual." He rested a hand on York's thigh, squeezing it for a moment.

"I think I can live with that." One last nip of Wash's earlobe before he leans back and resumes eating, hand on Wash's waist dipping down now and then to squeeze his hip.

The nip drags a soft noise out of him and he squeezes harder when York pulls away. "You are a gooddam tease." he mutters. But food is food. He can't waste it, so he starts shovelling it into his mouth as quickly as he can manage.

"Not a tease if I follow through later." He snorts, finishing up his dinner at a decent clip. This and tea and a tin of some kind of pudding is more than enough for a decent meal for him.

"See, I knew you liked me," Wash replies and slides his hand up along York's thigh, just a little higher. Enough to do a bit of his own teasing.

"Just a little." He bats at Wash's hand. "You're gonna blind the kids!"

Wash laughs and stops, returning to eating until his plate is empty. "You're gonna have to give them the birds and the bees talk sooner or later."

"Eventually, yeah. But not right now." He snorts a soft sigh and leans against Wash, waiting for him to finish. "C'mon. I wanna ride you slow tonight."

His breath catches, stutters and comes out in a startled gasp of breathless laughter. He finishes off his food and shoves the plate away with a certain amount of enthusiasm before turning back to York. "Done."

A few bites more and he's finished as well, all but giggling at Wash's eager reaction. It's been awhile- god it's been forever but he wants this. Wants something good with Wash before the job tomorrow. It's a milkrun, sure- but if it isn't? Better to go out with no real regrets.

He slides out of his chair and hooks his arm around Wash's waist, tugging him to the door.

Wash presses up against York's side, nudging him with his hip as they head towards the door. They don't exactly run back to their bunks, but it's a close thing. People get out of there way. There's a few whistles and Wash makes a mental note to assign them extra guard duty before remembering... it doesn't matter.

"Your place?" he murmurs, leaning in to nip at York's earlobe.

"I do have the better bed." He turns them just enough to head for his door, disengaging the lock with a clicker at his hip from a distance. Makes for easier entry when he's exhausted- which he isn't just yet. Through the door and kicking it closed behind them he's already peeling his shirt up and off. No slow seduction tonight, not even a little. Not when he's got this odd trepidation about tomorrow and this heated weight in his gut.

Wash can take fast. So long as he's here, he wants to spend as much time as he can pressed up against York, memorising every bit of him. He pulls off his own shirt quickly, tossing it somewhere across the room. Doesn't matter. Keeps his gaze fixed on York as he kicks off his pants, an eager look on his face.

"I-" voice dropped low and weighty, he turns to hook an arm around Wash's waist and pull him in close and tight. "Have been think'n about this all damn day."

Skin on skin, lips on throat and every soft twist of Wash's breath from last night stuck with him hard.

Wash slides his arms around York in return, resting them against the curve of his ass. It presses them close, bodies flush together. He groans softly at that, presses his forehead against York's shoulder. "Couple of days and I need you like fucking air."

"Skin hunger." He smooths a hand up Wash's spine, ending at the nape of his neck. "It's- you get good at ignoring it. And when you're finally somewhere you can indulge it's like- "

Shrugging he focuses more on playing with Washes hair, mouthing at the skin of his jaw. For a long moment this is all he needs. A warm body that he trusts- someone he likes. "Getting drunk."

It makes sense. Prettier way of putting it than Wash could have thought of. He shudders with the touch, eyes dropping closed when York's fingers brush against the AI port at the back of his neck. York's lips are hot against his jaw, and Wash wants him to leave a mark, some proof, evidence that he had been there.

"Yeah. Feel that way. Could drown like this."

"Drown'n with you ain't so bad a way to go." He drags his nails back up Wash's neck, rolling his thumb over the scarred implantation site. His own wasn't so rough, so ragged. A clean scar of burned skin where Delta used to live- taken from him after he'd nearly died. Tex took care of him.

Carolina's had been angry too and a dim flicker of a memory has him dragging his teeth along Wash's throat, the flat of his thumb rolling back and forth over Wash's scar. David's scar. Here they're just Taylor and David and everything else doesn't matter.

It drags a soft noise from him, something between a groan and a noise of pain. It's the memories more than actual hurt though. He keeps that spot covered whenever he's out of his suit, the scarred spot that he'd clawed at trying to rip Epsilon out of his head.

"Hey Taylor," he says,, tilting his head so he can look him in the eyes. "When this is over, let's go somewhere. Some nice outer colony with an ocean."

"Yeah babe?" It trips out of his mouth before he can stop it, not that he really wants to try. It fits. In a weird sort of way he hasn't thought about in for fucking ever, it fits. That's more than enough reason for him to turn his lips against David's jawline before he pulls away. "Go surfing, tan naked?"

Wash's breath catches with the endearment, and then he grins, a hint of red colouring his cheeks. "Yeah. That. Get some colour on our skin after spending near a decade in a sealed suit." It didn't exactly help when he was already pale.

"Sounds like a plan." Something to shoot for. Something to hold on for. He thought he'd had that with Carolina and up until that last moment where he didn't trust her enough to include her- he had. But this? This is good.

This will work.

He trusts David. "We're gonna have to order in. I can't cook for shit."

It's something to hope for. Something to guide him, even if he's never going to get it. The person he could have been wants it and maybe that's enough to keep him heading in the right direction. Just a little longer. That's all he needs.

"I've got money. We could hire a chef."

"Mmm. That could work." He tugs Wash along, stepping back to the bed little by little. "Just you and me and a cottage by the sea, a lot of food that's bad for us, working it off with lazy sex in the afternoon?"

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