[Dick watches Wash put things together with some degree of satisfaction of his own. He wouldn't have come chasing after this if Wash had been capable of dumb brutalities and nothing more - Dick can pick up that kind of date in any bar in town after a certain time of night. There's so much more here than idle threat and teased reward. It takes a particular mind to know how to pick him apart, and more and more Dick's sure that he hasn't misjudged Wash's.
Not that he plans to make it easy. There are times he'll play the perfect submissive, put in the work, but that in itself requires earning in return.
That subtle little withdrawal of pressure is a case in point - a perfectly timed tug on the leash, and even if the breath that Dick lets go might contain something whisperingly close to a curse, he straightens up.
The comment about keeping him and the unexpected possessiveness in Wash's low tone lands another perfect hit, flashing up all the images he's sure Wash intends it to. Being kept and used, and used again. The perfect surrender of control, being little more than a receptacle. Already past any attempt at a snappy comeback, Dick's searching for words when Wash snatches them away from him. His grip's cruelly tight and Dick doesn't think he can have been hard at all for how painfully he's suddenly aware of his pressing erection. His pulse flares at the exact same time. Fuck.
He tests his airway, scrabbling and rasping for air even as his hips rock desperately forward, trying to rut up against Wash's hand.]
You'll... [The word trails to a scratch, almost a whine. He heaves a breath and tries again.] You'll be the only one who does.
[There's something in that, a harmony to the possessive note struck before.]
no subject
Not that he plans to make it easy. There are times he'll play the perfect submissive, put in the work, but that in itself requires earning in return.
That subtle little withdrawal of pressure is a case in point - a perfectly timed tug on the leash, and even if the breath that Dick lets go might contain something whisperingly close to a curse, he straightens up.
The comment about keeping him and the unexpected possessiveness in Wash's low tone lands another perfect hit, flashing up all the images he's sure Wash intends it to. Being kept and used, and used again. The perfect surrender of control, being little more than a receptacle. Already past any attempt at a snappy comeback, Dick's searching for words when Wash snatches them away from him. His grip's cruelly tight and Dick doesn't think he can have been hard at all for how painfully he's suddenly aware of his pressing erection. His pulse flares at the exact same time. Fuck.
He tests his airway, scrabbling and rasping for air even as his hips rock desperately forward, trying to rut up against Wash's hand.]
You'll... [The word trails to a scratch, almost a whine. He heaves a breath and tries again.] You'll be the only one who does.
[There's something in that, a harmony to the possessive note struck before.]