[ The way Dick had slowed his pulse under his touch had been a deliberate showcase intended for him to notice -- a hint of what else he might be capable of, and to show him how much he can control. Which makes it intensely satisfying and a definite turn-on when he feels that control fall away, kicking back up again to a rapid pace under his grip. Wash remains acutely aware of it, almost tuning himself into that rhythm even as it's disrupted by his gasps and his throat working to form the words to answer him.
Wash is patient. As controlled and restrained, as always, keeping that pressure carefully controlled as Dick fights for the words, drinking in the sight and sound of his voice cutting off into an almost-whine like he's hungry for it. Even as Dick's hips strain to press up against his touch, his hand there is steady, apaprently ambivalent to his attempts, popping open the front of his jeans, pulling down the zipper -- clearly teasing at touching him, but not actually doing more than that, just yet.
He watches, just as hungry, as Dick manages another breath, feeling the way the words bubble in his throat against his palm, and ah, that does resonate, something darkening in Wash's eyes in response to it. Maybe it's unreasonable to feel any kind of possessiveness over someone he genuinely doesn't know, when in some ways they've only just met for the first time. But the memories are vivid, real or not, and he remembers Dick bent over his desk, half-conscious and shivering, lifting his head to part his lips eagerly and willingly for his cock, and. Really, how could he not want him to himself? To have at least some small part of him, to ravage and piece apart?
But here, he takes his time to answer, too, lets Dick continue to sputter and struggle to lift his hips against his touch. His gaze briefly drops down to Dick's hands at his sides -- he is impressed by his restraint and control, how much he can hold himself back there even as he's clearly desperate -- and back up again, leaning closer, biting sharply at his lower lip and tugging on it with his teeth even as Dick works to breathe, chasing the mark he leaves with his tongue. ]
You want that to be mine?
[ A bit of a growl to his voice, and he shifts even closer. He crowds him against the wall, their height difference more evident as he has to lean further down, as he uses that hand over his throat to force his head back. ]
I'll take it.
[ A flurry of movement, all at once. His grip tightens further, until it goes from it being entirely possible to breathe and speak with difficulty and effort, to vice-like, hard enough to leave bruises against the delicate skin around his neck and throat. It's still not enough to quite choke him out completely, only to take away most of his air save for one small, tiny, sliver -- but Wash is leaning in to catch Dick's mouth with his own in another kiss. He kisses him harsh and bruising and possessive, like he means to draw the air out from his lungs himself, forcing him literally choke on not just the air but on him, his lips and tongue, the taste and presence of him, heavy and demanding. His other hand finally slips in past the denim of his jeans, tugging down his underwear until he can take his cock fully in his hand, calloused fingers curving around him as he starts jerking him off. He touches him like he knows him here, too, like the weight and feel of him in his hand is something he knows, and he settles immediately into the rhythm he remembers Dick enjoying, flicking his wrist and teasing his thumb over the head in the way his memory supplies. ]
no subject
Wash is patient. As controlled and restrained, as always, keeping that pressure carefully controlled as Dick fights for the words, drinking in the sight and sound of his voice cutting off into an almost-whine like he's hungry for it. Even as Dick's hips strain to press up against his touch, his hand there is steady, apaprently ambivalent to his attempts, popping open the front of his jeans, pulling down the zipper -- clearly teasing at touching him, but not actually doing more than that, just yet.
He watches, just as hungry, as Dick manages another breath, feeling the way the words bubble in his throat against his palm, and ah, that does resonate, something darkening in Wash's eyes in response to it. Maybe it's unreasonable to feel any kind of possessiveness over someone he genuinely doesn't know, when in some ways they've only just met for the first time. But the memories are vivid, real or not, and he remembers Dick bent over his desk, half-conscious and shivering, lifting his head to part his lips eagerly and willingly for his cock, and. Really, how could he not want him to himself? To have at least some small part of him, to ravage and piece apart?
But here, he takes his time to answer, too, lets Dick continue to sputter and struggle to lift his hips against his touch. His gaze briefly drops down to Dick's hands at his sides -- he is impressed by his restraint and control, how much he can hold himself back there even as he's clearly desperate -- and back up again, leaning closer, biting sharply at his lower lip and tugging on it with his teeth even as Dick works to breathe, chasing the mark he leaves with his tongue. ]
You want that to be mine?
[ A bit of a growl to his voice, and he shifts even closer. He crowds him against the wall, their height difference more evident as he has to lean further down, as he uses that hand over his throat to force his head back. ]
I'll take it.
[ A flurry of movement, all at once. His grip tightens further, until it goes from it being entirely possible to breathe and speak with difficulty and effort, to vice-like, hard enough to leave bruises against the delicate skin around his neck and throat. It's still not enough to quite choke him out completely, only to take away most of his air save for one small, tiny, sliver -- but Wash is leaning in to catch Dick's mouth with his own in another kiss. He kisses him harsh and bruising and possessive, like he means to draw the air out from his lungs himself, forcing him literally choke on not just the air but on him, his lips and tongue, the taste and presence of him, heavy and demanding. His other hand finally slips in past the denim of his jeans, tugging down his underwear until he can take his cock fully in his hand, calloused fingers curving around him as he starts jerking him off. He touches him like he knows him here, too, like the weight and feel of him in his hand is something he knows, and he settles immediately into the rhythm he remembers Dick enjoying, flicking his wrist and teasing his thumb over the head in the way his memory supplies. ]