Bit 6: On A Whim

York was a stealth machine.

No one had seen him come into the base, thanks to the secondary entrance Samael had told him about. It had required some shimmying...a bit of rock climbing...and just a smidge of squeezing his giant-ass body through a crevice that was definitely more Sammy-sized.

But he was in, now. A grin creased his muzzle as he crept through the dim hallway, keeping his head cocked for the sound of anyone wandering toward him. Samael mentioned that Nelson was holding a meeting with the non-combatant rebels, while most of the ops teams were out on missions, which meant Sidewinder should have been pretty quiet. Samael was being granted a tiny reprieve while he recovered from his fractured arm -- an injury from the rather mysterious job he and Andee had taken on recently...which had just so happened to coincide with reports of a rather tragic incident at a thought-abandoned bunker in the middle of Stigma.

It'd been a few weeks since the, ah, eventful trip to Sampi and the just-as-eventful boat trip back to Lactan. Not to mention the party at Xulod, which had been its own whole kind of crazy. York had plenty on his mind, and he was sure Samael would be thrilled to have an update. He did, after all, promise to come to the weird little redneck if he was ever dealing with 'gay shit'. And while he wouldn't consider things with Wash to count as 'gay shit'...

...god, they kind of did, though, didn't they? Confusion and what York was pretty goddamn sure was jealousy -- two emotions he didn't quite have as much experience with. Or at least not the jealousy bit. Ironically, Samael had been at the core of York's last towering bout of confusion, so York supposed it was only fair to try and talk to his pal about the latest one.

Things weren't necessarily in a bad place with Wash, they just...they weren't great, either. York didn't want to imagine the worst, that somehow the injection of more than one intimate encounter with his best friend would cause a rift to open between them, but it was hard for him not to. Wash was so closed off from the world, prying out his thoughts and emotions required a delicate mix of persistence, gentleness and the leverage of a damn crowbar. It wasn't hard for York's concerns to creep toward the unthinkable, not knowing just what the hell was going through his little buddy's mind.

While CT was an awesome sounding board, sometimes York needed something a little different. And if there was one thing Samael was, it was a little different. He tried not to snort quiet laughter at the memory of Samael at Xulod -- even with the way Wash had fled the dance floor, Samael had kept things lively despite the worried looks he'd given York from the stage. But that was Samael, consistently dancing along the line dividing boundless cheer and emotional depth. There was a reason he and York got along so well.

York moved down the corridor taking enormous but delicate steps, his arms held out to give him that extra bit of sneakiness. Samael's quarters were just a turn or two away and he grinned -- not a soul had discovered him yet! Yeah, he was just that good. He puffed his chest out a little as he continued the bouncy stealth-prance past the impromptu break room where--

"What the fuck are you doing here, lap dog?!"

That voice, like a pack of rabid hounds tackling him into a chain-link fence a moment before methodically dismembering him. He froze in mid-step, his head creakily turning to stare with horror at...Nelson.

She glared back at him, one arm holding her muscular torso in a near-hover above her wheelchair as she poured herself a mug of coffee. Her legs hung down limply...not that she needed them, considering the way her rippling arm barely trembled while supporting her weight upon the edge of the countertop. "What...what are you?" he sputtered before yelping and flinching as she flung a spoon at him, the utensil bouncing off his muzzle and skittering across the stone floor. "What the hell!?"

She glowered darkly before grunting and letting her body drop back into the chair. "I asked you a fucking question, Agent York," she intoned as she snatched the mug from the counter and used her other hand to wheel herself around the counter.

She rolled right up to him, her knees smashing aggressively into his legs as he took an awkward step backward, raising both hands. "Oh god, please don't pull that gun on me again," he mumbled. When she only narrowed her eyes, York cleared his throat sheepishly. "Uhhh...uh is it okay if I take Sammy out for lunch?!?" he blurted in a voice that was far too loud and far too cracked.

Her eyes burned into his for another moment or two before she wrinkled her muzzle in distaste. "My fucking god, the two of you are such goddamn children."

"Sorry!" he squeaked automatically when she moved her arm to her side, but she only rolled her eyes as she produced a small flask and tipped a splash of amber fluid into the coffee.

"Christ, no wonder Washington left your ass alone on the dance floor," she muttered, and a weirdly real pang ran through him. She noticed immediately, however, and snorted softly as she eyed him for a moment longer. "The two of you turncoats are made for each other, that's for damn sure," she grumbled.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Geez, would you prefer if we were still with Freelancer?"

"Fuck no," she retorted, making the same face York imagined she might have made if he'd offered her sexual favors. "Just mean that you assholes were meant to be. Should have been shoving your dicks together for a long fucking time." He blinked and choked on his tongue in shock. She hid a smirk behind her mug while taking a sip. "What do you want with Wurlitz? He's on a very temporary leave -- I cannot afford his injury to be furthered."

York quickly nodded with a winning smile, doing his best to brush away the embarrassment. "Oh, don't worry! No missions, I promise! Just a picnic!"

"I know exactly what you and Wurlitz do on your 'picnics'," she replied dryly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhhh, I don't know what you mean, we're just gonna talk and have some--"

"I'll make it simple so it won't slip on your smooth-goddamn-brain," she interrupted briskly. "Do not bend my fucking redneck over a fucking rock today, because he is too much of a whore to know how not to re-injure himself being railed by his giant idiot of a fuck-buddy."

York's eyes bulged as he worked his muzzle stupidly for a few seconds. "H-holy shit, woman," he began before wheezing when she slung a punch into his side; he swore his kidney might have just goddamn ruptured as he gave a pitiful squawk.

"Don't 'woman' me," she growled before jabbing a finger firmly into his stomach. "I have a meeting to get back to. You stupid puppies have four hours, then I expect your oversized hide out of fucking Honkal."

"I-I mean, Sidewinder's just a part of Honkal, you don't mean all of--" He paused mid-retort as she leaned forward with a snarl. He quickly nodded and gave a nervous laugh. "Uh, I mean, yup, absolutely, out of Honkal!"

"Good," she grumbled, pushing him aside with frightening ease before wheeling past him and down the hallway. "Four hours, lap dog!" she called over a shoulder.

York stared after her, almost not registering the way he exhaled in relief when she turned a corner. "How the hell is Sammy still alive?" he mumbled to himself before hurriedly scampering down the corridor in the opposite direction to make a beeline to his friend's room.

The heavy fabric that normally covered the entrance to Samael's chamber was shoved to one side...not that it entirely mattered. York had learned the hard way that no matter how thick and muffling the bright pink cloth looked, it was most certainly not soundproof. He heard the shuffle of something against stone and hesitated just outside the cavern. "Oh god, Sammy, please tell me that's you and not Nelson again," he called out warily.

A delighted chuckle rolled out from within, followed -- thankfully -- by the familiar drawl of his pal. "Gatdamn, hon, the fuck you do to 'er this time? Y'know she ain't jokin' 'bout that rock salt, right? That shit stings."

York took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax as he poked his head through the entrance. Samael was seated in a ragged office chair behind a metal workbench in the corner of his room. He glanced over his shoulder at York and offered a warm grin while using his tail to gesture invitingly. "C'mon in, ya big ol' dork." York smiled back and ducked slightly through the archway. "What the hell's the point'a me tellin' you 'bout all the secret ways in if yer still gonna run into Mama Nelson?"

York chuckled to himself as his eyes drifted across Samael's quarters. The workbench and a large cabinet stocked with countless miscellaneous tools and parts were shoved in one corner of the vaguely oval-shaped chamber. A compact still was erected next to it, along with a shelf or two of sealed jugs containing what York knew was the very potent moonshine certain parts of Sampi were known for. Crates of the various ingredients for the liquor were haphazardly stacked around the still, somehow blending into the scattered clothes that seemed to be crawling from the battered wooden dresser situated next to the small distillery. "Do you know how weird it is to hear you call her that? Besides, didn't you have like...five moms and six dads back home, already?" York asked teasingly while he continued to look over his friend's room. Yeah -- they were both some messy assholes, that was for sure.

York smirked at the bed, as always -- it wasn't a mattress as much as it was an expansive pile of blankets and pillows that was arranged in the furthest corner of the cavern, just below a natural hollow in the external cliff wall that allowed a warm shaft of sunlight to spill in across the colorful makeshift bed. It looked goddamn ridiculous, though York knew from experience by now that not only was the weird-ass nest plenty comfortable...but that chimney through the rock provided a gorgeous view of Sirca's night skies, too. It all fit the crazy redneck's personality far too well.

Samael snickered behind him, and York realized the sound he'd heard before belonged to the casters on Samael's chair as he pushed himself across the cave floor toward the cabinet so he could fish for some tool or another to use on whatever he was working with. "Ay, just 'cause I got raised all different from you ain't mean I can't add another mama to my collection, ya racist bastard," Samael retorted with a playful grin over his shoulder. "Anyway, Nelson might as well be a den-mother. She's tough 'nuff to keep even someone like me in line, at least sorta, 'n she's always ridin' my ass 'bout my terrible life decisions so...why not?"

York snorted and hoisted the gleaming long-range rifle that was propped against the entry wall. "Still kinda weird, she's more like a terrifying drill sergeant than a mother figure," he grumbled as he worked the bolt a few times. Samael had recently cleaned and greased the weapon, he guessed. The redneck was probably keeping busy in whatever ways he could since Nelson -- for all her bluster -- was likely doing everything short of chaining Samael up to ensure he didn't go out and make his injury any worse.

"Heh, y'ain't wrong," Samael admitted as he picked up the pistol he was tinkering with. He spun around in the revolving chair while pulling the slide back with one hand to peer through the barrel at York. "But who says ya can't be both, eh?"

York smiled curiously at the sight of his friend. Samael's left arm was slung across his chest by what appeared to be an actual piece of medical equipment, and not just a torn scrap of cloth. A thin cast covered the lower half of his limb, and it looked like there were already several signatures, doodled hearts and a handful of oddly-well-drawn phalluses adorning the plaster. "I guess you ain't wrong, either, pal," York chuckled as he turned the rifle over in his hands to examine the magazine feed. "Geezus, Sammy, I haven't seen a gun this shiny since inspections back at bored ya been?"

"Son, you ain't got a damn clue," Samael grumbled, releasing the slide of the pistol and pulling the trigger to snap it shut. "Please tell me yer in the mood for a li'l trip outta this place."

"I thought you loved your cozy-ass caves," York teased while lifting the long-range weapon up and peering through the scope. "Reminded you of home 'n all that jazz."

"Shit, I spent 'bout as much time scamperin' through the snow as I did in the caves back home, motherfucker's gotta breathe," Samael muttered as he hopped out of the chair and trotted across the room, running a hand idly along York's stomach as he passed. York twitched a bit, but by now was used to his friend's near-unconscious need for those little affections. "Anyway, I ain't got no sippin' wine...options are the white lightnin' or checkin' the communal fridge for some beer."

York grunted in thought and lowered the rifle. Between the drive over and the mountaineering he'd done to sneak in, he was actually feeling a little tuckered out. "Uh. Not to be a party-pooper, but...could we just bring some coffee?"

Samael peered at him from the shelves of random odds and ends he was pawing through. "Well shit, hon, I ain't gonna say no, but you must got somethin' on yer mind if ya ain't even wanna get buzzed." He flashed a toothy grin even as he produced a tall thermos. "But then again, maybe you jus' wanna remember the sweet dickin' you always get with yer pal Sammy."

"Like I could forget any of our dickings, you're like the unicorn of sex partners. Never a normal thing with you," York retorted, drawing another cheerful expression from his pal. He shook his head with a laugh and gently set the rifle back against the wall before stepping back for a moment to admire the surface. The smoothed stone was decorated with several paintings of various Sircan landscapes...not to mention a surprisingly tasteful portrait of a certain bat. "So...that guy who did your big-ass back tat at Xulod. He painted all these?"

"Mutt, yeah," Samael answered as he dug out a small knapsack and returned to York's side. He took a moment to smile up at the paintings as well. He then winked and nudged York's side. "He does piercings, too, if yer feelin' particularly adventurous."

York snorted amusedly. "I think I'll start with the tattoos you and I keep talking about getting one day," he replied with a smirk, his eyes drawn back to the depiction of Andee's sprawling form. The bat sported only his collar, his trademark black cap oh-so-casually draped across his hips as he lounged across -- what else?? -- a gleaming ATV. Goddamn rednecks and their fetishes.

...York wondered for a moment what the heck Andee's junk looked like. Ah well, probably a mystery forever -- he was sure that, even if the bat seemed to have forgiven all transgressions from that day in Lamtha, Andee wanted nothing to do with him in an intimate way. "I gotta know -- how the hell did you convince Andee to let Mutt paint this?" York inquired, automatically grabbing the knapsack when Samael handed it to him so Samael could pry open the thermos and sniff its interior cautiously.

His reaction suggested it was clean and he gave a spirited smile up to York afterward while jerking his head toward the doorway to lead him into the corridor. "It weren't that hard! Just promised the li'l fucker he could have as much 'shine as he wanted for some trade he was tryna swing. Besides, it made a nice gift, so he felt like he got one over me, anyway."

York chortled and nodded a few times. "I'm glad you two are doing better. I know you seemed fine and stuff at the party at Xulod, but..."

Samael gave a smaller smile. "Eh. We're still figurin' a few things out, but...gettin' there." He then reached up and patted York's arm. "I'll give ya the whole tale sometime. Fer now, let's go find us some snacks 'n get us some fresh fuckin' air 'fore I go nuts...then we c'n talk all 'bout yer li'l gay adventure. You know I been needin' some details."

York smiled quietly while rubbing across his chest. "Guess that'd only be fair, huh? Yeah, alright...I'll follow you, then. Just please tell me we don't have to steal the coffee from Nelson."

"Heh. We both got that good shit straight from the bats, but supply's runnin' low, us a favor 'n keep a listen out for them wheels while I go raid her pantry..."

"Aw goddammit, Sammy..."

"Oh shit, shit, York, look out, hon!"

York blinked and whipped his head around just in time to see the mainsail's boom arcing toward his chest. His reflexes allowed him exactly one "shit!" before the heavy beam smashed into him, causing the entire boat to shudder as York squawked and was sent sprawling into the sea with an ungainly thump into the thankfully-warm water.

The hull glided past his brawny form while he flailed and propelled himself back toward the surface with a powerful kick. He heard Samael's laughter when he broke through the calm waters and spun around with a huff, squinting up at his companion. "Dammit, Sammy!!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" his friend called out around his giggling, reining the mainsail back in with one hand and then quickly securing it before he grabbed the tiller and steered the craft in a loop back toward York.

York couldn't help his own laughter, though, dunking his head down to plaster his mane back and then treading in place as Samael maneuvered closer. "So much for being a natural, jackass!"

"Hey, man, there ain't no damn engine on this thing, plus I'm down a hand, so that's like...two handicaps!" Samael protested even as he grinned and leaned over the side of the boat while moving past York.

"You forgot the third one...all the damn inbreeding!" York teased, earning an easy guffaw from Samael while he extended his good arm over the railing. York grabbed into it and the two worked in tandem to get him yanked back onto the warm deck as water splashed over them both. "I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose at all," York huffed, hiding his entertained grin as he shook his head and then flicked a bit more water across Samael's features. "You're lucky Nelson would literally murder me if I threw you in, ya tiny jerk."

"Ain't that the truth?" Samael laughed, reaching out to grip apologetically into York's arm for a moment. "Jus' a sec, buddy, I got some towels..."

York snickered while running his hands along his arms and legs to whisk some of the excess seawater away. "You know you're not supposed to go swimming for at least thirty minutes after eating, right??"

"Aww, I said I was sorry!" Samael called out while he stuck his head into the tiny cabin. "I'll make it up to ya, promise!"

They'd enjoyed a little snack consisting of a bunch of leftovers Samael had pilfered from the mess, munching away while the boat drifted into the Sea of Vossler. And then, of course, Samael had insisted on demonstrating his sailing skills when the winds changed...but at least they'd been in the far-warmer waters at the center of the sea. The sun was shining high above and in all honesty, it didn't feel that bad. York was sure Samael would have jumped in with him if it weren't for the cast.

York glanced up when Samael ducked under the sail with a sheepish grin, a few fluffy towels in his arms. "Here ya go, pal -- you c'n dry off, we c'n drink some coffee, it's all good!"

York smiled as he flopped down onto one of the towels Samael spread across the sun-kissed planks of the ship's deck. "Yeah, yeah -- everyone here knows you just wanted to get me all wet." He flexed very purposefully and Samael's gaze immediately locked onto his chest with a delighted coo when the bulging muscles became that much more visible through the soaked fur. "See?"

"I ain't denyin' shit," Samael replied easily as he bent down and offered him the thermos. York accepted it and propped himself up against the mast while Samael's eyes danced in that far-too-familiar way. "Y'know, though...we probably should get them pants off," he added coyly, one hand on his hip. "So ya don't get sick or nothin'..."

"Aha, there it is," York replied, letting his tongue poke impishly through his teeth while pouring himself a cup of the still-steaming beverage. "What happened to hearing about my gay adventure, huh?"

Samael smirked. "Oh right, I fergot ya ain't apparently capable of chattin' 'n screwin' at the same time, they trained all that multitaskin' right outta ya at Freelancer, ain't they?" He paused and then grinned jovially as he undid the button of his own pants with his good hand. "Here, I'll even go first!"

York didn't even have time to protest before the stocky chupa had his shorts unfastened and kicked aside, leaving only his grin as everything else of his fluttered, unhindered, in the gentle breeze.

...Not that York would have protested. He was kind of a whore too, after all. But he grinned all the same and took a very purposeful sip of the coffee. "Hey, Nelson was uh. Weirdly clear that I'm not allowed to. Um. You know. Rail you, I think she put it."

"Haw, shit, there's still lots we can do with a gat-damn broken arm," Samael insisted as he approached and then plopped down next to York. The larger male automatically lifted his arm so Samael could press against his side while the enormous tan limb settled across his shoulders. "C'mon, tell me 'bout you 'n yer boy while I get you outta them wet-ass pants, you big nasty sea monster."

York rolled his eyes even as he smiled and lifted his rump high enough for Samael's deft fingers to unbuckle his belt, then swiftly tug his waterlogged garments down over his legs. "I guess I should be grateful I've got you to remind me I could always be way more of a slut," York remarked while Samael snickered without a hint of shame and took a moment to spread York's dripping pants across a dry patch of the ship's warm deck. He glanced down at Samael, expecting some sort of come-on, but his friend remained quiet and only offered him a smile as he returned to resting against his side. Apparently he actually did want to listen.

York huffed but hid a smile behind the small cup of coffee before he offered it to Samael, who took it with a wink while awkwardly gesturing in thanks with his injured arm. York scowled and squinted down at him. "Quit tempting fate, I really don't want Nelson to shoot me in my ass. Or my dick, or. Hell, I don't want Nelson to shoot me at all. Also you know you're my friend, but you really are gonna be terrible at both sex and missions with your arm in a sling, so. Don't make it worse."

"Aw, shush up 'n tell me what's goin' down with you 'n the pine cone, already," Samael ordered before downing the rest of the mug and passing it back for York to refill.

"Man, I almost forgot what a demanding bitch you can beeeee--Sammy!" York almost-whined when there was a sudden pressure on his crotch.

Samael peered up at him querulously as he released York. "Hey, yer the one who said I was a demandin' bitch. An' a slut. An' a whore, so. Accept me touchin' yer junk an' get to talkin'."

"I'm gonna tell your mom you're being bad," York grumbled, his tail flicking lightheartedly against Samael's as he found what he could of his composure and did his best impression of someone calmly filling a cup with coffee, then thoughtfully placing the rest of the thermos a safe distance from them both. He exhaled and then took a sip while finding that strange relaxation he always did with Samael, in spite of the fact his friend's fingers were massaging idly across his crotch. Or maybe because of it. "Alright, so. Ugh, well. You saw...pretty much everything at Xulod, right?"

"You two cute li'l love-muffins about to dance an' steal the show, ya mean?" Samael paused as his smile softened a bit, resting his head on York's chest while gazing up at him. "Or ya talkin' 'bout when Wash had his moment an' left ya standin' high 'n dry out on the dance floor afterward?"

York grimaced and nodded as he held the cup in both hands to let the coffee's steam rise across his features. "Yeah, that part wasn't so fun. Sorry if it made know..."

"Shit, please, y'all were fine," Samael reassured. He was such an odd little fucker...but York was accustomed to it at this point. He let Samael's fingers wander as they did, simply savoring the gentle ministrations as easily as someone else might a back rub. "Trust me, yer Wash's li'l freak-out was still pretty small taters compared to what me 'n Andee put them poor folks through."

York laughed a bit -- he wasn't surprised to hear that. "Heh. What did happen to, uh..." He stiffened up with a wince when Samael's claws gingerly dragged across him. "H-hey, Sammy..."

"We ain't talkin' 'bout me 'n him right now," his friend murmured, meeting his gaze with a small smile. "Also, there's been, eh. More'n one scene me 'n the li'l fucker caused out that way, so. Yeah, just take my word that y'all didn't make no one panic." York felt Samael's thumb glide tenderly along his body, a much nicer feeling than the blunt claws. "We din' see y'all again after that. But I'mma guess you tracked 'im down, eh?"

York nodded and finished the coffee again before setting aside the cup. "I did." He had mixed feelings thinking back to the hayloft. Everything with Wash...that had been incredible. But then Tex. And the fact those two were still...ugh. He sighed and somehow wasn't shocked to see Samael watching him, his azure gaze seeming to read his thoughts as they always did.

He mumbled and kept his arm around his friend while shifting his body to one side and rotating slightly so he could drop onto his back. Samael moved easily with him, curling up at his side with his injured arm resting across his chest while the other hand returned to delicately tracing patterns. "We had a...really, really nice moment together. It was somethin' else, Sammy. Even better than the boat, and..." He flushed despite himself. "You saw yourself how much we both enjoyed that..."

"I sure did," Samael chuckled, nodding a bit and letting his eyes break away from York's as he gazed across his chest and out over the serene surface of the Vossler. "So this was what...third time y'all had a li'l somethin'-somethin'?"

York cleared his throat. He liked sharing things with Samael, but...well, now wasn't the time. He was still trying to figure out what the hell he was doing with Wash now. No need to add confused moments from their past. "Yeah -- I, uh. I guess, if we're counting what happened in that cave in Sampi."

Samael smirked, his eyes flicking back up to York long enough for York to look embarrassed. "Heh, it counts enough," Samael replied as York arched his back a tiny bit but otherwise remained sprawled out on the warm towel as he stared at the clouds drifting above them. Samael's hand went to work and York shivered while closing his eyes. "So what was the downside, then?" Samael asked gently, his goddamn mind-reading undercutting the blissful sensations of his skilled fingers.

York wrinkled his muzzle, cracking one eye open to once more peer up at the blue skies. Getting a friendly handjob on a boat in the middle of the Vossler on a beautiful day like this should have been just that, dammit. But...he also knew all too well that he wouldn't have gone to his dumb redneck pal if he'd just wanted some sexual release. Samael was talented at encouraging more than just fluids out of him. A quiet rush of air escaped York's parted jaws and he squeezed his arm slowly around Samael's shoulders. " I guess before I found Wash, he'd..." York frowned and felt Samael's grip loosen almost as if anticipating the less-than-pleasant memory. "Tex as there with him. And they'd...well."

"Shit," Samael replied sympathetically. "Sorry, hon."

"It..." York sighed and covered his eyes with his other hand for a few seconds. "I'm doesn't upset me that things together. I mean, look at me -- look at me literally right now with you..." He lifted his hand while glancing down at Samael, who only smiled back up at him with a look that told plenty about how he understood. "It's. It's the way she treats him. And it's the fact that..." York ran his tongue over his lips as he dropped his hand to his chest. "Wash says it's just a thing of convenience with her, but. Sammy, I know him better than that, and I can tell it isn't."

Samael tenderly grasped into him again and York wasn't sure if he stiffened up in reaction to that...or Samael's murmur: "You jealous of her, pal?"

...There was no point denying it, since he'd admitted it to Wash already. It just still felt so...alien to him. York mumbled a few words under his breath while tightening his grip around Samael. "I...ugh. I am. Yeah. It's not fair, because even if Wash has feelings for her, it's just a broken heart to deal with when things fall apart. But for us, for him and me..." York bit his lip and closed his eyes again. "There's a lot more at stake. I don't want to lose my best friend, Sammy. The thought haunts me..."

Samael kept his fingers where they were, though he halted his motions as he instead bumped his muzzle against York's chest. "That...that sucks, hon, but. That also ain't a bad thing."

" the hell do you figure?" York muttered, glancing down with another frown like his dick wasn't still lovingly clasped in his friend's hand.

Samael glanced up to meet his eyes, smiling slightly. "Shit, York. 'Cause it means what you two have is somethin' special. If it hurts to think 'bout losin', then it's worth chasin'. Rare to find somethin' like that which ain't got some kinda risk to it."

York made a face even as he nodded and exhaled slowly again. "Yeah, fair. But this is...this is a big risk, Sammy. What if Wash...what if he doesn't..."

Samael smiled a bit again as his fingers resumed their dance. "What, have feelin's for ya? Well...if he don't, you got yerself a problem. But I'll tell ya what I do know -- he ain't like you or me. He don't strike me much as the 'casual sex' kinda guy. Fact y'all've had more'n one, ah, run-in lately gotta mean somethin' 'bout him." Samael shuffled his body down along York's side, squirming across his friend's torso so he was half-sprawled across his stomach.

York gave another soft huff. "Dammit, Sammy, your arm --"

"--is gonna be fine," Samael concluded, keeping his sling secure against his chest. York flinched but didn't protest, giving a small smile and keeping his hand gripped lightly into his friend's shoulder. Samael's persistence knew little bounds. "Anyway...I ain't sayin' you gotta dump it all on the poor guy, tell 'im that y'all wanna move in together 'n have gay li'l Freelancer babies..." York snorted amusedly despite himself. "You c'n go slow, too, y'know. Show him what you feel for him ain't no fling. Let him see that ya care, that yer crazy 'bout 'im. Don't make it no mystery."

Samael rolled his head back over a shoulder to peer curiously back up at him. "...You have talked to 'im since Xulod, right?"

York cleared his throat sheepishly, dropping his head back down to the deck and staring up at the fluttering sails. "Uh."

"...Lawd, son, please tell me ya at least done somethin' with 'im since then, at least??"

"I, uh. I mean. He's been busy, we've. Been busy and --"

"Oh, York, ya dumb, adorable bastard," Samael chuckled. "I thought ya cared 'bout 'im."

"I do!" York huffed in protest, using an elbow to sit up partially so he could pout down at Samael, who glanced back over a shoulder with an entertained smile. "What??"

"Oh, nothin', nothin'," Samael replied airily. "I just thought my pal York wasn't no pussy, lettin' himself get outplayed by a dick-tuckin' chick who ain't respectin' yer boy..."

York swore quietly under his breath as his head rolled back for a moment. "G-goddammit, Sammy..." he panted, his fingers squeezing into the smaller male's bicep. "I...I can't..."

"Can't what?" Samael teased. "I ain't even talkin' nothin' big like confessin' yer love or somethin' like that...but you ain't even bold enough to offer the guy a blowjob or nothin', huh? Fer'd think you'd be jus' itchin' to show 'im how much ya appreciate 'im..." York could feel his smirk, and would have retorted if he wasn't currently distracted by Samael's...everything.

"Hnngh, fuckin'...hell, you little bastard," York muttered as he clenched his teeth. Samael was just teasing him. Just taunting him to show him he was being silly, that all he needed to do was just try to talk to Wash, approach him with something, something to demonstrate that he didn't think what they'd shared so far was just a series of odd flings and heated, unintentional moments of accidental passion. It was just good advice, nothing to look into with that much detail.

York squirmed as Samael went to work. Yeah. He just needed to tell Wash that he wanted to spend more time with him. That he didn't want Xulod to be the last time they did anything intimate together. He didn't have to give Wash a blowjob to show him he cared. That was just silly.

A shuddering groan slipped from his maw. His toes clenched and the hand on Samael's arm clamped down a bit harder. He wasn't...afraid of giving a blowjob. In fact...yeah, he would be willing to do that, wouldn't he? It was just a blowjob. He could give a blowjob, especially to his best friend.

"I'm not scared," he announced with a huff. "I'll totally give Wash a blowjob."

Samael halted, a muffled snicker sounding before he fired another mischievous look up to York. "Oh really?" He winked. "You ain't ever given me one...I don't think you got it in ya..."

York pouted and then shifted his hand to grab the back of Samael's head and push it teasingly back down. "Look. You shut up and. Go back to what you started, you gay hick. I'm not giving you one 'cause like. It would probably be so good you'd hurt your arm worse. You know, like. Flailing in pleasure."

Samael snorted a laugh even as he acquiesced to the kind request. "Mhmm, sure, sure -- you be sure to let me know when yer scaredy-cat ass gives Mr. Wash's dick somethin' with that big mouth that ain't just hot air..." he mocked before resuming.

York grumbled in false protest, pretending he wasn't overwhelmed with bliss as he dropped his head back onto the deck, resting one arm across his chest while the other hand remained gently pressed to the back of Samael's skull. It should have just been a joke, but...dammit, now his honor was on the line. How dare Sammy suggest he wouldn't be willing to...that was just mean, of course he'd do that for Wash. Wash wasn't just his second-best-friend-who-was-also-a-giant-whore, Wash was his best friend, his combat buddy, his partner through years of death-defying missions, life-changing decisions and a whole mess of emotional ups and downs.

And so what if Wash wasn't being honest about his feelings with Tex? That hadn't stopped them in Sampi...since even considering their near-delirium in that blizzard, there was no way Wash actually believed that a shared handjob would save their lives from hypothermia. It hadn't stopped them on the boat back to Lactan. It hadn't even stopped them in the hayloft, even while York's muted bitterness against Tex's behavior was still fresh on his tongue as they'd moved into the passionate moment.

Samael was right about Wash, or at least York hoped so -- Wash had to have felt something for him for those encounters to unfold, whether or not there was alcohol involved. So maybe the dumb horny redneck had a point...maybe York could show his little buddy that someone other than Tex could be there for him, in more than just a physical way. Someone who'd actually care, who'd be more than a brisk, impersonal outlet for sexual desire.

York closed his eyes, his flurry of thoughts temporarily subsiding for him to savor Samael's skilled motions. York smiled to himself as he thought back to his first time with his companion. Lord, had they both been in a different place back then. Samael had grown much more talented since that day...and York had gotten...well. A lot gayer. He found himself with guys almost as often as he did with girls, now. It gave him perspective on what Samael might have been suggesting, even if it was masked in his usual taunting lilt.

Even casual sex didn't have to be impersonal. After all...christ, what were he and Samael doing this very instant? No, he wasn't moaning and writhing uncontrollably...but there was also nothing businesslike or distanced about this. They were both enjoying something special between two friends who'd developed an easy sexual bond with each other. Strange to some, probably, but who cared? Neither Samael nor York, that was for sure.

Why didn't Wash deserve the same? Why didn't Wash deserve even more? York didn't just care about him the way he did his little friend from was beyond that, their own bond went far deeper, carried even greater weight. Wash deserved to be shown that, to be given a demonstration of all that they could share if they were willing to reach out and accept that, maybe, they felt something for each other that was more than just a long-running friendship. There were things York wanted Wash to experience with him, things both physically and emotionally intimate, things that were made so much more special because of their relationship.

...And yeah, one of those things could be a blowjob, ugh. Goddamn this stupid grinning redneck and his goddamn knack for egging on York's ego. He was determined, now, he was gonna show both Sammy and Wash that he was perfectly capable of giving his little buddy something...special. Then he'd see who was laughing, yeah.

York grinned before gasping soft, his thoughts once more scattering to make way for the rush of ecstasy that began to flood through his veins. He opened his eyes and then arched his back with a soft curse as Samael responded in kind. Aw shit, why hadn't he been paying more attention? Samael was a goddamn natural at this, York should have been taking notes on -- oh god, it was too late now.

York's teeth ground together as a hiss of pleasure whispered through his jaws, both hands shifting down to clutch gently into Samael's skull. Part of him was almost ashamed how quickly Samael had gotten him to this point.

Another part of him also just wanted to grab Sammy's head and muzzle-bang him wildly in revenge for the damn seed he'd planted into his thoughts...but then again, Nelson and her rock salt. His friend was lucky this time. York settled for a heated puff of air and merely holding Samael securely, making a mental note to take it out on him another day when his arm wasn't in a cast.

He didn't bother with words, choosing instead to soak up every ounce of Samael's focused attention. All thoughts of retribution, no matter how playful, were lost to the glorious stampede of sensations that rushed over his enormous body.

York gave a shuddering sigh and let his hips drop back to the towel before smirking as Samael immediately rumbled in satisfaction and slid back up to nuzzle over his chest while curling against his side again. York could absolutely feel Samael grinding into his hip, but his companion didn't seem to pay it any mind as he closed his eyes and shifted his injured arm a bit to press it comfortably between their masculine forms.

"Good talk, York," he murmured, a dumb little smile on his face that made York shake his head bemusedly while he squeezed Samael closer.

"Just 'cause I'm not ready to give you a blowjob doesn't mean I can't still give ya a handy or somethin', Sammy," York teased while nosing at the top of his friend's head.

"Heh. Hey, man, there ain't no shame in not bein' ready for somethin' durin' sexy-time," Samael replied cattily as he bumped his muzzle against the bottom of York's. "Anyway, don't you worry yer pretty li'l head -- gets me off plenty just gettin' you off. Yer a fine partner in bed, buddy. Wash's a lucky dude if he ever figures that out." York smiled softly and lowered his head to gaze up at the passing clouds again, only to snort when Samael added: "But I mean, yeah, yer totally gonna gimme a handjob 'fore the day is done, c'mon now, lookit me, my arm's all broke, can't even get no butt-sex, it's the least you c'n do since you ain't ready to see what blue tastes like."

York shook his head with a smile as he felt Samael's leg curl around his, idly flicking the end of his friend's maw with his free hand. "All my strange friends, Sammy, you're probably the strangest. But if that's what gets you off, pal, then who am I to judge?" Maybe he'd understand it better after he gave Wash that blowjob...because dammit, he sure as hell couldn't back down now.

Bah, there was no reason to be worried. He had it all under control, it would be just fine. Oh yeah, Wash was gonna love it, and the next time he got together with Samael, he could tell him there was a new blowjob-master on the ring. After all, he was the York!