Evergreen and Amber

Act 5: Lay It Down

York laughed and glanced back over his shoulder as he and Wash dashed into the dark cavern. "I think we're free'n clear, buddy!"

"Told you," Wash boasted, tossing the keys up before catching them with a grin. "They didn't even notice!"

"Not bad, not bad, I was almost impressed," York teased. "It would have been better if you hadn't dropped the dang things right after you swiped 'em." He winked while letting his eyes rove over the informal wet dock. Several boats were moored in the underground cove, ranging from tiny personal craft with outboard engines, a few speedboats that were probably great for smuggling...and even a random goddamn sailboat.

"...Hey, Wash, can we--"

"No."

"...You're no fun," York complained before approaching his companion. "You know which one you snagged the keys for?"

Their voices echoed in the cavern, drowned out partially by the water lapping softly at the rocks and the gentle nudging of the boats against their protective bumpers. The only light came in from reflections of the sun off the water outside the covered lagoon, but it was still bright enough for them to be able to study the key together. Wash frowned in thought as he held it up for them both to peer at closely. "Uhhhh...I think..."

"Mmmm, y'all got good taste, that's Nelson's favorite li'l cruisin' boat."

The drawling voice sounded like it was coming from all around them and the two blinked stupidly as they stared in opposite directions. They instantly knew who it was, but his goddamn grinning face was nowhere to be seen.

At least until a finger poked playfully into Wash's rump and made him yelp and leap forward into York, who failed to react quickly enough to catch him. He bounced off of York's broad chest and then nearly stumbled back onto his ass...but York was fast enough for that as an arm shot out to grab Wash's wrist and stop him from falling backward.

York huffed, though he couldn't help his slight grin at the sight of Samael, who had all but materialized out from a tight cluster of rocks just behind them. Wash looked less pleased, however, immediately glowering at the charismatic rebel. "Goddammit. Goddammit. Where the fuck did you come from, Samael?"

Samael whistled lowly, his hands perched smoothly on his cocked hips. "Dang, Wash, that mouth'a yers too pretty to be so dirty!" He grinned and then fired a finger-gun toward York. "You two thought you was sneakin' off all slinky-like, ain't no one seen ya, eh?" He smirked between them. "C'mon now, yer lookin' at the guy who invented slippin' out."

"Woulda thought you'd be more responsible for slipping in," Wash deadpanned, earning a snort of laughter from York...and then Samael as well, who chuckled and nodded several times in approval.

"Alright, then, you have loosened up a li'l bit, 'n here I thought it was jus' the beer y'all were fakin' to drink upstairs."

York and Wash glanced at each other for a moment before York raised his hand. "Hey, uh. I wasn't faking it."

"Yeah, 'cause gettin' you drunk requires a fuckin' open-ass bar tab, or one'a my fuckin' moonshine stills with the tap wide open," Samael retorted before he laughed and threw an arm around both their waists. "But don't worry, I get it -- y'all tryna sneak out, get outta here 'fore you gotta spend any more time with us lowly fuckers. You got super-important-Freelancer stuff to get back to." He paused and then whispered loudly: "In a stole boat."

York snorted even as he met Wash's eyes with amusement. "C'mon, Sammy -- don't be like that. You know we ain't that bad."

"Yo, just 'cause we swapped a li'l spit don't mean I c'n trust ya completely! Y'all were about to duck outta here with one'a these puppies, weren't ya?"

"Hey, it was more than just a 'little' spit," York shot back, earning another sharp elbow from Wash into his ribs. As he doubled over slightly, he was surprised to see what have been...no. Was that a sliver of jealousy on his friend's face?? It made the potential internal bruising completely worth it.

Wash sighed and then fixed Samael with a pointed look. "Look...okay, yes. We've had a very long, very loud day. We were just hoping to get a quiet trip back. Or at least as far as we can get."

Samael squinted suspiciously up at him, then shifted to peer up at York as well. York liked Samael plenty...but if it came down between the boisterous rebel being an asshole and Wash's relative comfort...well. He prepared to pounce and subdue if needed.

But Samael only grinned brightly again and patted their backs. "Shit, why didn't y'all say so? C'mon, fellas, an excuse to boat-jack an' take a trip over to my favorite part'a the ring? Hell, I'm on your side, I was just thinkin' of my li'l winged fuck-bat, I still owe 'im for that mess in Blarganthia."

Wash mumbled a few choice words before noting dryly: "You realize Nelson wanted you to take us?"

"Well shit, the hell'd y'all do to piss her off this time?" he inquired with a smirk. "Anyway, that just makes this a sanctioned boat-jackin', so let's get the lead out, boys!" He twirled the keys on one finger as he slipped between them to head toward one of the motorboats.

Wash blinked and looked at his now-empty hand before glowering across at York. York shrugged his shoulders and lifted both hands helplessly, mouthing a 'What was I supposed to do??'

There apparently wasn't much Wash could think of in response, and he turned with a slight twitch over one eye to follow Samael to the boat. York smiled a bit at his back all the same, trotting along afterward -- at least now this was gonna be one less thing Nelson could yell at them for.

...Oh, who was he kidding. They were still gonna get yelled at. She loved yelling at them.

Samael wasted no time steering the boat smoothly out of the hidden cove. There was little concern of anyone spotting them, thanks to the fact that other than the occasional fisherman from Sampi, most boats didn't attempt to navigate this end of the sea, dotted as it was with half-hidden crags beneath the surface and floes of ice that bobbed constantly in the near-frozen waters. He steered carefully through a few of the larger chunks, showing a frightening ease with how casually he spun the wheel back and forth. York grinned throughout, though he didn't miss the way Wash clutched into the side-rail with a perpetually disapproving glower.

Once they moved into more temperate waters, Samael threw the throttle all the way down to send them skipping rapidly over the slight chop of the Sea of Vossler. Perhaps relieved they were no longer two seconds away from being dashed to bits on an iceberg, Wash dropped into the other captain-style chair next to Samael, pointedly ignoring his drawling conversation with York, who had thoughtfully put himself between the two with his easy stance right in the middle, leaning on the windshield for support.

The trip across the lake was relatively uneventful -- other than the rapid-fire jabs and less-than-couth tales shared between York and Samael, the quiet was punctuated only by another boat that happened to pass nearby their inconspicuous craft. York glanced at Wash regularly, noting the way his companion spent nearly the entire time staring through the windshield while propping his head up so that his slight scowl became more obvious.

As they approached the delta to one of the larger rivers that cut through Honkal and toward Timae, York turned toward Samael and nudged his shoulder. "Hey, dude -- you cool to cruise the river alone? Last time we got any z's, we were in a goddamn blizzard courtesy of your homeland." Samael glanced up at him bemusedly, tilting his head slightly. "Look, I was alright, but check out my li'l buddy." He moved his hips to one side while gesturing at Wash, who was still firing a muted glare at the approaching shoreline like it had just insulted his mother. "All skin 'n bones! Poor dude barely got any sleep."

Samael snickered softly, taking a moment to brush a bit of excess sea spray from his bare shoulders -- he certainly wasn't ashamed of that big goddamn tattoo he'd gotten across his back a few quarters ago, often as he went shirtless -- and then shrugging amicably. "Yeah, I'm good -- made this run plenty times solo, after all." He tapped a paw against the steering console, where a small set of stairs led below deck. "There's a li'l kitchen down there, not sure if we got no snacks on board, but guess y'all alright to make a bite if ya want. Coupla beds down there, too -- probably easier to get a li'l nap soon once we're off the Sea, anyhow."

"Awesome, you're a lifesaver, man," York replied gratefully before he reached over to shake Wash's shoulder lightly. His companion blinked out of his dull grouchiness, slowly turning his head to glance up at him inquisitively. "C'mon, Wash -- you can grab a snooze downstairs. You need one."

"I'm not a baby," he muttered, but he couldn't avoid looking grateful for the opportunity to have some actual quiet as he watched York squish his bulky frame into the tiny stairwell ahead of him. Wash paused next to Samael and the two shared a wary look before he grumbled: "Uh. Thanks, Samael. Appreciate you driving."

"Yeah, yeah, just don't eat all the fuckin' snacks if you find some! Save at least one for me!" he threatened after Wash when he followed York into the hold.

Wash pushed the door shut behind him; the rush of air from his muzzle was less a sigh and more so a complete release of the last how many hours of uncomfortable social interaction. York always found it kinda cute how terrible Wash was at spending time with people...at least with the people he didn't have a history with.

...Not that the friendly, drunken ramblings even with their close-knit group of friends were much better. York still savored the tender memory of Wash's absolute horror upon learning a secret or two about quiet, unassuming CT's jill-off schedule. Calling Wash a prude wasn't entirely fair, but lord, it wasn't entirely wrong, either.

"Fuck, he never knows when to shut up...thanks for the rescue," Wash allowed while slowly rubbing at his bare arm, his eyes glancing over what probably felt like a missing body part. "How many pockcoms have I gone through this year alone?"

York chuckled and shrugged off the pack to lean it against a wall. "Aw, you don't complain when I talk too much. Sammy's harmless." He paused, doing mental math for a few seconds. "Uhhh...only three, I think?"

"Only three," Wash repeated sardonically. He shook his head and approached the compact kitchenette. "Also, I complain literally all the time about it. Your goddamn rambling was the whole reason we got into all this mess today." He opened a few cabinets to frown disapprovingly into them; the worn appliances and random ketchup packets hadn't done much to upset him, but they were an easy target for his bristling. "And why I'm down one more pockcom."

York smiled easily, his tall form slightly stooped beneath the low ceiling of the hold. He wondered if this was Nelson's favorite boat because she didn't have to worry about knocking her head into things anymore -- the salty bitch used to be pretty tall, after all. He ambled up behind Wash, reaching up to a higher cabinet to peek into it while his hips casually framed the smaller male's wiry body. "Not everything about today's been terrible, eh?"

Wash glanced up over a shoulder, his face a beautiful debate between annoyance and amusement. "You really like being an oversized bastard, don't you?" The nudge backward was almost imperceptible, the base of Wash's spine a snowflake lighting onto York's inseam.

York's grin oozed cool as he pulled down a can of ground coffee and a few cheap white filters. His other burly arm slid past Wash to test the power button of a small but well-kept coffeemaker. "It has its perks," he rumbled while letting his hand glide down smoothly to rest on Wash's hip. "You want some coffee?"

"I thought it was bad for me?" Wash smirked up at him, then reached down to pull his fingers off his waist. "Of course I do. But I'm making it, you never use enough grinds."

"That's because I'm not a junkie," York retorted, his tone carrying a note of playfulness. He was reluctant to move away from his friend and blamed it on the gentle rocking of the boat as they moved into what he imagined were the calmer waters of the river. Well, it wasn't entirely fair to blame the boat. Their half-frustrating, half-delighting dance around one another since sullying CT's bedroll had culminated in a good eight or ten hours of "what-ifs" and "why nots" for York. Sex was sex for him, sure -- he'd just as soon hop back up to the deck and bend Samael over the railing if the hint was there. And for York, a hint might as well have been the oh-so-seductive act of existing.

...Something different about it with Wash, though. Might have been because, yeah, their last 'interactions' years ago had been steeped in booze and long, boring nights in a shitty motel in a shitty corner of Sirca; what were drunken handjobs between battle-buddies after all? Their moment earlier that day had been unique. Quite literally a first experience. But it was the connection that made him wistful. It wasn't just physically satisfying with Wash, it had been a release for him mentally, emotionally. Something special about sharing it with someone that knew him so goddamn well.

Geezus, was he pining? He hadn't pined for anyone since...well. He glanced down at the key around his neck before sitting back on the lower bunk of the two beds, barely noticing when his head bumped against the upper frame. "Ow," he mumbled, the response automatic and without much thought. Pining wasn't very becoming for someone like him. He was the one everyone else pined for. Even back at Sidewinder, what had it been. Twenty? Thirty minutes, at most, before that cute little rebel was cooing at his side, putting her hands on his wrist to ask if he needed help refreshing his beer? Appraising his body with that hungry desire that he admittedly never quite felt sated with.

A grey shadow darkened his deliberation and he blinked, eyes taking a moment to realize Wash was standing in front of him, his slender arms crossed over a...bare chest? "Uhhh, heeeey, buddy. You...hot or something?" The stupor was thankfully pushed out by his cockiness, a grin sliding in to take its place. "I mean, you are pretty hot, no matter what anyone says." Oh yeah. Nailed it.

Wash rolled his eyes, his fidget self-conscious enough to be cute. "I thought you wanted to take a nap or something. I've been wearing that shirt for two days, it's getting gross."

"That is so adorable," York marveled. Another squirm to drink in. He smiled slightly and then nodded toward the coffeemaker as it fizzled and released a small puff of steam. "Who makes coffee for a nap?"

"When you drink it as much as me, just one cup or two doesn't keep you awake," Wash muttered before gently kicking York's shin. "Scoot your big ass over."

"And here I thought you'd jump at the opportunity to take the top bunk!" York chortled, sitting up but keeping himself firmly planted in the middle of the thin mattress. "You gotta get tired of lookin' up at everyone all the time every once in awhile, right?"

Wash's scowl was steeped in the strangest mix of disapproval and wariness. York would have killed for a peek inside his thoughts as he stood in front of him, all one-hundred-sixty-pounds-soaking-wet throwing out an aura of "hey fuck you". Finally, Wash tilted his head back slightly and, in the most frustratingly imperious tone, replied: "Tex doesn't complain."

York's tongue danced over the back of his teeth. "Uh huh." He leaned forward slightly and as his hulking form emerged partially from the darkness of the lower bunk, Wash leaned back with the tiniest flinch. "I said I wouldn't bug you about it --"

"Actually, you said you knew I could handle myself," Wash replied, a modicum of confidence seeping into his voice as he took a step closer. "Why is it such a big deal to you?"

They locked eyes and York suddenly found himself in a place he didn't care for. A maelstrom of bad memories and dark thoughts twisted around inside him, a voice somewhere within his deepest core whispering how easily it would be to break the dumb little twit in half with just a few words. Leave him a stuttering, blubbering puddle at York's feet, drained of whatever self-reassurance and silly-white-lies he'd filled himself with.

...Except he didn't want that. He didn't want to do that to Wash...more than that, he didn't want anyone else to do that to Wash. He knew without even thinking about it he would rip apart anyone else who did that to his friend. And so York did something he rarely did and broke the stare first, shifting his eyes to the side as his shoulders sagged.

Wash must have noticed, since his arms loosened and the angry curve of his tail slowly relaxed into a hesitant droop. "York..."

Green eyes slid back, meeting hazel again as the words fought for dominance. It took York a moment, but he eventually opened his muzzle to speak. "I care about you, Wash. Probably too much." He still wanted desperately to say all the things he wanted to say, to take a wedge and slam that big fucker between Wash and Tex. But he knew his friend, and he knew it might backfire horribly, too. Wash was nothing if not a stubborn little bastard.

Wash's expression shouted defiance, but York didn't miss the hint of something softer, something begging for acknowledgment. York drew in a long, slow breath and held it before letting it out in a ragged, rattling sigh. "I just want you to be happy, man. To be treated right."

"Tex treats me fine," Wash insisted, though that telltale glance downward might as well have been a slap to York's face. "And anyway, I said before. It's just--"

"A fling, yeah," York murmured before he leaned forward and gripped lightly into Wash's wrist. His companion twitched but didn't pull away, only searching his features for an answer. York wasn't sure he had one. Not a great one, anyway. "All I'm saying is that if you just want a fling, you have...other doors that are open." He allowed himself a small smile, doing his best to shove any reluctance out of it. "Might even find someone who does somethin' better than her."

The tiny slip of pink York saw between Wash's teeth was a helluva response. His smile broadened as Wash hesitated, whatever response he was contemplating lost to the furrowed brow he sported while studying York. He decided to test the waters, tugging gently on his friend's arm. Wash took an unsteady step forward but didn't resist even as he continued to stare silently down at his companion. York let him stand there for a few seconds and the quiet sparks between them made Wash shift his weight before he spoke up softly: "Do...what better?"

It was an innocent question, even if maybe a little obviously naïve. Except York didn't care, since that shit drove him wild. His lips curled into a long, delighted grin. "I'll show ya," he all but purred, pulling Wash one step closer again and sliding his arm around his waist to guide him down into his lap. There was a brief stiffness in those lanky limbs, but as soon as York gripped around his hip, Wash was putty in shamelessly skilled fingers that reshaped him into a nervous, squirming figure atop his muscular thighs.

York's hands were magic, a nudge here to drop one of Wash's arms around his broad shoulders, a prod there to slide him closer to his waist, a deft flash of movement over there to undo the simple buckle of Wash's belt. By the time Wash seemed to regain his senses, their chests were pushed together, their muzzles pressing briefly end-to-end before York's maw drifted down and trailed a line of nibbles toward Wash's neck.

"Fuck..." The curse drifted off of Wash's tongue as he tightened the arm around York's neck, his claws digging into his shoulder while the other hand clutched into the thick, rough fur of York's barrel-like chest. York was fine with the passiveness -- he'd always been there to do what he could for his friend. This was just an extension of that. The hesitance in Wash's frame was slowly melting away as York's fingers glided over his spine before they graced the erect, stiff spines at the base of his tail. The contact immediately made Wash gasp into his neck and York gave a throaty chuckle of delight, milking that reaction for a moment or two longer before his claws slid up and hooked into the waistband of Wash's pants, already tight from the pressure shoving insistently outward at the front.

"These gotta go," York murmured against Wash's collarbone, keeping his friend held close as he tugged down on his pants. Wash knelt astride him to try and lift his body higher, immediately slamming his head against the top bunk with a quiet curse.

"Ow, shit," he mumbled, leaning forward against York to awkwardly try and shift in a different direction. York smiled slightly and quickly adapted to the new angle, pulling Wash's pants down to his knees as a very distinct sound of flesh-slapping-into-waist emitted from between them.

"'Kay, my turn," York half-instructed, half-informed. "Just gotta get you..." He wrapped his arm around Wash's waist to lift him. "Up a little..."

...Another thump followed by a another soft curse. "Goddammit, York..." Wash mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and then scowling as he was bumped into the bed frame a third time. "Dammit, York!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," York muttered, his words somewhat muffled as he shoved his head into Wash's chest while reaching down to yank his own pants down with a sigh of relief when his arousal sprang free to join his companion's. "There."

Wash settled his weight down again and they glanced at each other, a somewhat-skeptical Wash tilting his head slightly even as his cheeks practically emanated heat from the flush York knew was there. "When does the 'better' start?"

York grinned slightly as he bumped their noses together. "Shaddup." He kept one arm tight around Wash's waist as the other snaked between them. He stole a look down and was strangely entertained by the sight -- he hadn't been lying earlier that day about his own...measurements. Wash was only a bit smaller than him despite the way York's arm practically enveloped his torso. He nudged his hips forward and was rewarded by their erections bumping together...as well as the quiet whimper from Wash. "It starts now," York teased while gently wrapping his massive fingers around them both.

Wash twitched immediately and bit his lip hard as the arm around York's neck tightened almost painfully. York wondered for a moment if -- biases aside -- Wash had been properly treated before. He clearly didn't give himself appropriate attention...and while York was absolutely positive Tex knew exactly what she was doing, he also knew he had one advantage over her; unlike Tex, he had his own dick.

...Unless Andee's raucous insults toward Tex had any truth to them, at least. It might explain a few things about Wash, anyway.

He shook his head briefly with a quiet snicker to himself, leaning back against the wall so he could appreciate Wash's slender but toned body wiggling with anticipation atop his thighs. He squeezed lightly, coaxing a dribble of fluid from them both, before he started a leisurely, gentle stroking.

The effect was instantaneous. Wash threw his head back, barely catching the low moan in his throat as he reached down to automatically grab York's wrist. He didn't try to stop him, but simply clutched into him as his fist continued its steady motions. York kinda loved it. He ran his tongue over the top of his teeth while his eyes guzzled back the sight of Wash arching his back and whimpering happily above him. He knew his pal was in his ruff, but still. Goddamn.

Wash's other hand shot up to grab a rail running beneath the top bunk, gripping tightly into it for support as he did his best to keep his muzzle clenched shut to repress the happy cries rushing past his teeth. York's eyes gleamed, adoring the way his friend bucked into his hand, their arousal grinding together as Wash practically rode him in his passion. York grinned eagerly while his free hand locked onto Wash's waist and helped him make those blissful movements into his closed fist. He imagined it wouldn't take much to ease Wash forward...to guide him right into position and slip inside him...really take things up a notch. He relished the thought, imagining his friend mounted atop him like there were in a damn rodeo, York's eyes glazing over at the delightful waking dream while his hand became a blur along their overflowing malehoods.

"W-wait, wait, wait."

Wash's half-pleading whisper cut through York's reverie and his vision came back into focus to see his partner leaning forward, his weight resting on a hand splayed over York's chiseled stomach. York muzzle parted for an excited "Yeah?" This was it...Wash must have been reading the dirty, dirty pages of his best friend's mind, and like a teenager staring at his first porno, he was ready to try it out.

"I...I wanna..."

Here it was! York tried not to nod like a spastic pup being offered another slice of pie.

"I wanna..."

York's fingers dug anxiously into his waist as the hand around their mashed-together erections slowed in anticipation.

"Be inside you."

"Absolutely," York all-but-groaned in excitement as he moved to pull his friend forward before he blinked in confusion. Wait, those weren't the words he expected. "U-uh..."

But Wash's face had already lit up at the energetic response, smiling with a hesitant confidence that almost made York forget what he'd just proposed. Not that he minded, anyway, but it certainly wasn't what he'd ever thought he'd hear from Wash.

His partner was a mess of skinny limbs trying to hurriedly maneuver himself backward and York winced in solidarity when the back of Wash's skull knocked against the upper bunk frame. "Sonuvabitch!" he muttered, even as he doggedly continued his rush to slide off the mattress and plant his paws securely on the floor. His eyes were as nervous as they were eager and York couldn't help but notice just how excited all of Wash was in that moment. Maybe his little buddy was ready for this after all...and York had no complaints ready to fly.

Wash seemed unsure of himself for a moment -- he might have just then thought about big, strong York being on bottom. York smirked and pushed himself across the mattress so his rump rested right on the end as he bent one leg back and locked a paw against the bed frame above himself. That seemed to be enough to spur Wash on. He licked his lips and shuffled forward, one arm sliding around York's wedged leg for support as the other gripped himself at the base. Their eyes locked briefly and York couldn't avoid a playful look, his tail swinging up to lightly tap Wash's testicles. "Quit stalling, Wash. Time to deliver."

Wash huffed quietly and glanced down at the awaiting scenario before taking a quick breath and edging himself forward as he mumbled: "Got a whole package to deliver, you jerk..."

Regardless of the cheesiness, York couldn't help grinning before his head rolled back with a guttural groan as Wash eased his slicked-up arousal into him. His muzzle hung open at the mixed sensations that twisted through him, a dull ache soothed by a deep, indescribable pleasure that no doubt came in part from the circumstances. Wasn't every day you gave your best friend the okay to have his way with you...and he then obliged.

Wash's self-control was impressive, to say the least -- he'd buried nearly his whole length and York knew it was a snug fit (he wasn't an expert at this like Samael, after all) but to his credit, the slow, careful way he pulled back out was goddamn excruciatingly blissful. "Fffuuuuck, Wash, c'mon, give it, man..." he panted around his happy grin.

"...No."

York almost didn't register the word, blinking dumbly as he stared up at Wash, sprawled out and writhing on his back like a damn schoolgirl. Wash's grin beamed down at him and he couldn't quite find the words as he dazedly watched Wash reach down to grab his other leg. His slender arm strained visibly but he hefted it anyway and, with a grunt, hauled it high so it dropped over a slight shoulder. The sheer weight of the muscular leg made Wash's knees tremble, but his face was scrawled with determination as he huffed and then squared his hips. York could still feel Wash's tip miraculously lodged within him and it was with a bewildered face that he watched his long-time companion practically snort steam as he gripped tightly into both his legs. "Now you can have it," he grumbled.

There was no forced dominance in his voice, no uncomfortable attempt at sounding strong. York continued to be at a loss for words but his half-grin seemed to do the trick as Wash smiled back slightly and then suddenly began to pound into York with the vigor of a damn horny teenager.

Safe to say York wasn't expecting it as he arched his back and fired an arm up to grip the upper bunk with a gasp of "ohmyfuck!". The leg anchored against the higher bed frame quivered with the intense rush of ecstasy, toe-claws scrabbling against the metal and threatening to lose their already-waning purchase. His vision swam and his other hand dug furrows through the mattress below them; he was pretty sure he felt his blunt claws tearing into the cheap fabric, not that he cared. One more favor to ask of Andee.

Worth it.

Somewhere along the line, his leg slipped free, but Wash sloppily caught it -- it nearly bowled him over, but he wedged it against his side with a sharp huff of exertion as York's other leg was shoved even higher so Wash could push forward further still, leaning into his writhing companion to keep true to his goddamn promise to deliver. Sweat ran down the lithe chupa's body, his breath washing hotly over York as he grimaced with the effort and slammed his hips harder and faster.

At some point, Wash plunged his knot in, which should have slowed things down a bit...but no. No, not today. York could taste how much his friend wanted every ounce of this, and he was pretty sure he might have let out a very unbecoming squeal when Wash simply started working the entirety of himself in and out. Anatomical physics had no place here -- this was a place for supernatural performance, or at least a temporary agreement that pain wasn't worth considering for the next few minutes.

The bunk bed thudded into the wall each time Wash shoved forward, syncopating nicely with York's sharp gasps to form the perfect soundtrack for their performance. It was through a haze of bliss and muted thumps that York felt the rush of warmth deep inside and his eyes rolled back with a strained moan. He reached up blindly, grabbing tightly into his friend's shoulder to yank him forward...which of course slammed poor Wash's forehead right into the upper bunk as he yelped in pain and lost his rhythm for a beat or two.

He glowered down at York, muzzle and chest drenched with sweat as his hips automatically continued jaggedly shoving into his burly partner. But York hardly noticed, barely managing a rapid "ohshitsorry!" between his rapid chorus of "ohshit-ohshit-ohshiiiiit!" Wash did his best to keep thrusting even as his orgasm subsided, grumbling but still full of determination as his trembling arms kept York's legs held up and apart.

"Goddammit, you big stupid bastard, come already," he hissed before they both froze as a voice trailed down from the top deck.

"Yoooo, you guys okay down there? Sounded like someone hit their head on that bed...guess I shoulda warned ya it's a little low!"

"W-we're fine!" Wash managed in a hurried, strained voice. His eyes were panicked, but he felt a shaky hand grab his muzzle and turn it back so he could stare down at York, who looked back up him with a dumb, flushed grin. No way was Samael going to ruin this for them

Wash huffed quietly but then narrowed his eyes as York reached for his ridiculously stiff arousal with his other hand. "Not so fast, you ass," he muttered, smiling a bit and letting York's higher leg remain on his shoulders while ignoring the way his entire body began to shudder with the effort. His hips continued pumping unsteadily forward and York was left to simply watch with no small amount of impressed affection as Wash wrapped his hand around his member.

...It took exactly one pump downward before York's hands flew to his muzzle to clap it shut in an attempt to muffle the piercing cry of delight that should have come out of someone half his goddamn size. Wash couldn't hide his shock at the sheer volume that gushed out, cursing softly even as he grinned helplessly and did his best to offer a few more firm thrusts with whatever strength he had left.

It took several seconds for York's toes to uncurl and by then, Wash's reserves had been about as drained as York's...everything else. He stumbled forward as York's legs dropped down stiffly, grimacing as he collapsed onto his messy partner but too exhausted to care as he mumbled into York's sweat-and-gods-knew-what-else drenched chest. "Christ, York, what the hell..."

York's head was still ringing with the force of the climax and he gave a warbling chuckle before wincing when Wash used the last of his strength to pull himself out -- what was one more pass of that goddamn knot, anyway -- so he could drag himself more completely onto his friend and be pulled into a secure embrace. "Sorry, bud, that was...sorta your fault," he replied with a dazed laugh while staring at the top bunk with a dumb but happy smile plastered on his muzzle. "You fuckin'...fuck-machine."

Wash gave a muffled snort Into his chest before shifting so his chin rested on his collarbone. York glanced down and their eyes met for a tender few seconds of silence. York didn't want to think about the days ahead, when they were back 'home', and things would resume as normal. When Wash would go back to overworking himself and withdrawing from the rest of them and finding his solace with Tex while his other friends tried not to notice how goddamn stubborn he was limiting himself to such--

"So...York?"

York blinked, shaking his head numbly to clear the runaway train of bad thoughts. "Uh.. .yeah?"

Wash glanced down and then almost shyly picked up the key around his friend's neck. "When you said other doors would be open..."

Goddamn, even after railing him like a damn porn star, Wash slipped back into schoolgirl mode so fast it made his head spin. But that was okay. York loved that shit, too. He grinned and flicked the end of Wash's muzzle. "You pull that off every time, you can kick the damn door down if you want." Wash huffed, a delicate pout decorating his features, and York snickered while squeezing his partner's waist. "Yes, dear. My door will always be open to you. Don't even gotta ask."

Wash squirmed again but nodded once as he dropped his head back onto York's chest and closed his eyes. "You're a good friend, York. But I don't wanna hear about sacrificing yourself for me anymore, okay?" York shifted a bit, a frown gracing his glowing expression. He looked at the top of Wash's head, not sure how to respond... "No matter what, you better do your goddamn best to stay alive. Whatever you feel you gotta do." His blunt claws carefully released the necklace and drove slowly into York's chest fur again. "I want you at my side at the end, too. Whatever that end is."

York smiled a bit, his face again relaxing into blissful comfort. "Alright, little buddy. It's a deal then." A light contact against his tail caught his attention for a moment and he looked over curiously to see a brush of yellow bumping against his tuft of brown before Wash's tail hooked silently around his own. It made his smile shamefully brighter. He nudged Wash's damp mane with his muzzle before exhaling softly and running a hand along his back. "Sooo...what do we tell Sammy?"

"Geezus, nothing, we'll clean up in a minute," Wash muttered, his face mashed into York's neck. "Don't think he heard us with what he yelled down earlier."

York looked amused as his eyes flicked to the corners of the bunk bed. "Yeaaaaah." He studied the very new holes in the wall, no doubt freshly knocked in by the frame of the bed. "You're uh. You're probably right." Nothing a little sexual favor or two couldn't fix -- at least Samael's silence was easily purchased. "I'll get you some coffee in a minute. You just rest. And. Don't look at the wall."

Wash blinked and then slowly turned his head from where it was nestled against York to stare at the jagged craters in the drywall.

"Oh fuck me."

"Need like...ten more minutes. Fifteen max."

"And fuck you, too."

"Heh. Love you too, buddy."

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.