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Washington didn't mean for things to end up this way. It was an accident, an honest to goodness accident. How was he to know that 'alone time' was a real thing around here? When ever Caboose talked about alone time he just assumed that it was just a way of getting the idiot to mind his own business and give everyone some space. That unfortunately wasn't the case seeing as how Wash just accidentally walked up on Tucker jerking off behind a boulder.
As soon as he saw the scene, Washington lunged backwards to the other side of the boulder and held his position. He thanked his lucky stars that the Freelancer trainer helped him make quick decisions whenever he began to panic. Needless to say, he was definitely in a panic. Tucker's pace hadn't wavered so Washington allowed his breath to escape as quietly as he could manage. The last image that he held was of Tucker leaning over with one hand atop the boulder, barely two feet away from where the Freelancer hid his face.
His heartbeat quickened as he listened to the sounds that invaded his ear. Slick, thumping sounds provided a rhythmic beat to Tucker's loose lips. With every curse and gasp the soldier uttered, the more Wash grew uncomfortable in his own armor. He fought the urge to cry out. He tensed his muscles and held his breath until Tucker's sudden gasp signaled that he was spent. Washington could feel that his heart continued to race up until the point that he heard Tucker utter “Hey, Wash” as he walked away. That was when it dropped altogether.
For the remainder of the week, Washington avoided being left alone with Tucker. How could he face him, and how could he take it in stride? Tucker knew that he was there and it didn't bother him at all. This pissed Washington off but the embarrassment of witnessing 'alone time' when the whole meaning of it was supposed be for alone... ness. Damn, even his thought process was fucked up at this point. By the end of the week, Washington had become a babbling nutcase. He had begun to have dreams about Tucker.
About Tucker and him. Then an idea hit him.
It's just like a song stuck in your head.
When he was still in training with the Freelancers, he heard of a technique to get songs out of your head and all you had to do was give in and listen to the damn song. He needed to watch Tucker again during 'alone time' in order to ease his mind, and his heart.
Washington didn't mean for things to end up this way. But, the next time that Tucker claimed that he needed his 'alone time,' Washington followed after him. Deep in his heart, he felt like it was a ridiculous waste of his expert training. Tucker trekked back to the same boulder from the other day and began removing selected pieces of his armor to set aside, his helmet included. Once his chest piece was removed, torso exposed to the world, he stepped back and did something startling. He called out to Washington.
“Wash! I know you're there, dude. Come on out.”
Agent Washington stepped out from where he was hiding and stared incredulously at the Blue soldier.
“How did you know I was here?” His voice rang out strong but his nerves shook.
“I saw your reflection in my helmet. Plus you were here last time so... you know.” Tucker slowly swaggered towards Washington, a large grin spreading across his face.
“Know what?” Washington played dumb which is easy to do when you aren't playing. His body unconsciously began to retreat from Tucker's encroachment. He could only go so far until his back met with a tall stone structure that stilled him. Trapped. Tucker continued until he was a mere foot away.
“You know what.” Wash felt even more trapped when he gazed at Tucker's complexion. Smooth in some places, freckled in others. It was so complex and he knew that he was staring longer than he should. Thank God for his helmet.
“Take it off.”
Washington released a startled cough. “Take what off?”
“Your helmet. I want it off.” He hesitated for too long so Tucker took matters into his own hands and removed it himself before tossing it over his shoulder.
“Hey, that's mine!” Washington tried to scold him but he raised a hand against his CO's chest plate.
“Washington, look at me.” He did. “The way I see it, you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Namely mine.” Washington waited for the inevitable punchline that the young Blue was infamous for but it never came. Instead, he remained restful as he began to remove the armor that was between him and his goal. Wash allowed his body to fall loose enough for Tucker's efforts to be achieved quickly. His eyes drifted to Tucker's coffee colored lips. Wash loved coffee.
“Pretty.” he mumbled.
“You think that I have a pretty mouth?” The question was a soft whisper. One powerful enough to convince Washington to lean closer and connect their mouths. It was soft and slow but it was much too sexy to be one sided. A palm began to press into his aroused pelvis and Wash breathed out a low groan. Tucker pulled away from the kiss.
“You want to see what my pretty mouth can do, sir?” Whatever remaining resistance Washington may have been able to put up melted away. He wanted to see exactly what Tucker's mouth could do; to see if his tongue was as quick as his wit. He was not to be disappointed. As he saw Tucker lower to his knees he thought about his previous reasoning for returning to this site. The song that he once found to be a nuisance became his favorite and he wanted to see how loud it could get.
Tucker wrangled Washington's growing length out from it's hiding place and proceed to stroke the erection to grab the older man's attention. After five or six quick pumps he eased his lips around Wash's erection and used his tongue to trail a path of saliva down to the base. A hand was pressed against the back of Tucker's head as Washington tried to control himself. Unfortunately, Tucker had extensive knowledge about the erogenous zones of the human anatomy. In other words, dude was a pro. Wash had to dig his fingers within the tangles of Tucker's hair just to hold on. Right as he was about to come, an idea formed in his head and he tugged the Blue soldier's lips way from it's task.
“Wha?” Tucker managed to gasp out before his C.O. took control of the situation.
“Stand up, soldier.” He ordered gruffly. Washington grabbed the man's forearm before he could properly react and yanked him to his feel before spinning him around and pinning him to the tall, stone structure. The idea that Wash had in mind wasn't so much an idea as much as a feeling: the snapping of his resolve. The Good-Guy Leader dude that he tried so hard to be had left the building. And Tucker was starting to like it.
“I'm getting real tired of your insubordination, Tucker.” Wash warned, his harsh breath was making the hairs of the back of Tucker's neck dance in anticipation. He leaned in closer to his subordinate's neck slowly before snapping his teeth into his skin. Tucker yelped and leaped up in a panic but he was still within his commander's tight grip.
“Are you going to start following orders now?” A rough hand began to softly caress Tucker's bare abs as if he were too delicate for rough housing.
“Y-yes, sir.” He huffed out as his body shook. He wanted to grab Washington's hand and show him where to touch but the domineering aura of Washington's new attitude left him more submissive. It was a new feeling but not all unwelcome. He allowed himself to succumb to the demands of Washington's new persona. Washington, however, was still shocked at this new change in him. Never before has he, as a soldier, held this much control against a subordinate. He wanted to claim Tucker; to swallow him whole so he could keep his new favorite person all to himself.
Too quiet. I need to hear.
“Drop your trousers.” Tucker did as Wash commanded and was rewarded with his own erection making contact with Washington's. The Commanding Officer pushed against Tucker as hard as he could without causing pain and set a regular thrusting motion against him. The friction that began to burn between them was intense. So intense that Tucker forgot himself between moans.
“Faster! You have to go faster.” Washington slowed his pace and sent a look at Tucker.
“Oh? Do I?” He questioned sardonically. “Last time I checked, I was the one giving out orders.” His hands reached out to Tucker's wrists and brought them down to level with their cocks, which have now become a mess of bodily juices. He wrapped Tucker's fingers around said mess and held them there.
“You finish it.” Washington's lips up to now had been tracing the outline of the bite mark he left on Tucker's neck. The skin had just begun to change color and Wash's tongue was traveling it's way up Tucker's neck and jawline. “You want release, do it yourself.” Once again, Tucker did as he was ordered.
There it is. Washington could hear it, his favorite sound. The moans and gasps of Tucker pleasuring himself was without measure. Only, this time, he could feel it as well. He lifted his arms against the stone structure in order to hold himself up. Tucker, still earnestly jerking them off, tilled his head against the same structure as his hips continued to press against Washington's. The sounds of Tucker's song had begun to crack as he reached his climax. Wash needed more of it. The rhythm, the feel, it was poetry in motion. The higher Tucker's voice got, the closer Washington was to his own orgasm.
“David,” A breathy whisper got caught in Tucker's throat that sent his C.O. over the edge. He came first, followed by Washington. Their juices were mixing together against their bare chests and they struggled to regain their footing. Washington, having been drained of energy, stumbled backwards onto the ground and heaved heavily. Tucker had already begun to clean himself up by using the shirt that Washington had been wearing before they started. Satisfied with the state of his chest, he began to redress himself and return to Blue Base. Before he left, Tucker turned to face a still wheezing Commander.
“You really do know how to make things hard on me, Wash. Bow chicka bow wow!”
Washington really, REALLY, didn't mean for things to end up this way.