[It would be a cat-and-mouse game, if someone like Dick could ever really be considered prey -- and if the mouse was given to goading the cat to unsheath its claws. Wash has near perfect control of himself (the way Dick would, if he decided to force it - the way he's trying to let go of, here) but Dick reads faces like other people scan supermarket labels. He can see how someone's put together with a glance.

And he doesn't think there's any less want burning under Wash's skin than his own. There's something impossibly hot in watching the way he restrains himself. Dick almost lets his eyes close as careful fingers brush up the length of his throat, but there's a sliver of blue still visible under his lashes, wanting to watch.]

I teach yoga classes, at a gym in the down. [He says it slowly and deliberately, and they both know it's both an answer and a lie.] Zumba on Wednesdays.

[His cock twitches hard as Wash's nails track up the denim covered length of his cock, friction and anticipation an electric mix.]

Is this an interview? I thought I had the position.