[ Even without his own oxygen being cut off, for Wash, the whole world seems to narrow, too. He'd already been entirely focused on Dick, but that only seems to intensify the more he struggles under him. The world falls away until all there is is the taste of him, rich and warm, the press of Dick's body arching against his own, the sound of Dick's heartbeat beating rapidly against his own chest, the heat and weight of his cock against his palm, how he can feel him throbbing under his touch. He's paying close attention, drinking in every detail because it's all good, because in some ways he's as desperate for Dick's want and helplessness and desperation as Dick is for his touch, for more -- but also just to know. If it's ever really too much, he'll notice.
But it clearly isn't too much. It isn't enough. Everything from Dick's movements to the helpless breathless sounds he makes drowned between their mouths, like he's trying to beg but can't find the breath or words for it, is for more. Wash takes some real satisfaction in it when he feels Dick's hands on him, another moment of Dick's practiced slef-control shattering under his will. Fingers scrabbling desperately for purchase, twisting and tugging at his shirt and his front, trying to anchor himself closer, to drag him closer, too.
Even as he keeps kissing him, he does deeply consider pulling away. Breaking off at this moment to punish him for daring to touch him without permission. But while Wash won't forget that, and he'll find punishment for it, right now all he wants is to have Dick shatter completely beneath him. Dick's legs seem to buckle, almost give way, and Wash responds to it by pressing closer, shoving him bodily against the wall, keeping him upright by pinning him in place, and he keeps going, working over him with that perfectly practiced pressure and rhythm, building him more and more.
He breaks away from the kiss. Not completely, staying close, his grip vice-like and definitely leaving bruises around his throat, and he just looks at him for a few long moments, studying him with an almost detached, languid expression -- but under those half-lowered lids his want and hunger is clear, birght and burning in his eyes. ]
Come on. [ A murmur, finally, whispered soft against Dick's lips even as he keeps gasping for air. ] For me.
[ And he locks his hand even harder around his throat, cutting his air off completely, leaning in to kiss him again. Easier, more languid and relaxed, but somehow even more possessive before, not just demanding but expectant, like he means to smother him with his lips and tongue, all the while his hand keeping that calculated rhythm and pressure, working over him just a little faster. ]
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But it clearly isn't too much. It isn't enough. Everything from Dick's movements to the helpless breathless sounds he makes drowned between their mouths, like he's trying to beg but can't find the breath or words for it, is for more. Wash takes some real satisfaction in it when he feels Dick's hands on him, another moment of Dick's practiced slef-control shattering under his will. Fingers scrabbling desperately for purchase, twisting and tugging at his shirt and his front, trying to anchor himself closer, to drag him closer, too.
Even as he keeps kissing him, he does deeply consider pulling away. Breaking off at this moment to punish him for daring to touch him without permission. But while Wash won't forget that, and he'll find punishment for it, right now all he wants is to have Dick shatter completely beneath him. Dick's legs seem to buckle, almost give way, and Wash responds to it by pressing closer, shoving him bodily against the wall, keeping him upright by pinning him in place, and he keeps going, working over him with that perfectly practiced pressure and rhythm, building him more and more.
He breaks away from the kiss. Not completely, staying close, his grip vice-like and definitely leaving bruises around his throat, and he just looks at him for a few long moments, studying him with an almost detached, languid expression -- but under those half-lowered lids his want and hunger is clear, birght and burning in his eyes. ]
Come on. [ A murmur, finally, whispered soft against Dick's lips even as he keeps gasping for air. ] For me.
[ And he locks his hand even harder around his throat, cutting his air off completely, leaning in to kiss him again. Easier, more languid and relaxed, but somehow even more possessive before, not just demanding but expectant, like he means to smother him with his lips and tongue, all the while his hand keeping that calculated rhythm and pressure, working over him just a little faster. ]