[ Funny, he thinks, in some tiny little compartmentalized part of his brain that's kept reserved from everything he does, the part that just sits and watches. It's funny that Church kisses the way he does, desperate and fierce, but maybe it's not so funny because he'd belonged to Tex, hadn't he, and Washington remembers Agent Texas.
The way he presses his face to Wash's shoulder makes him hesitate. Just for a second, and he almost says Church's name.
Then he's being shoved back and the thought crashes through that the other man's had enough, that Wash pushed too much too fast, except Church is right back against him (where he belongs, some hideous little voice whispers, not to the Meta or the Project or the Director but here, here) and Wash makes a little surprised noise into his mouth, before one gloved hand is slipping down his stomach, past the waistband of his pants to find his cock and wrap practiced fingers around it. ]
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The way he presses his face to Wash's shoulder makes him hesitate. Just for a second, and he almost says Church's name.
Then he's being shoved back and the thought crashes through that the other man's had enough, that Wash pushed too much too fast, except Church is right back against him (where he belongs, some hideous little voice whispers, not to the Meta or the Project or the Director but here, here) and Wash makes a little surprised noise into his mouth, before one gloved hand is slipping down his stomach, past the waistband of his pants to find his cock and wrap practiced fingers around it. ]