It's enough to keep the impatient AI sated. The sensations process differently now, but certainly in a way that can be enjoyed. That's the main thing. He -- they -- lick his lips, squeezing down around his fingers now and then in encouragement, and hissing at the tug of teeth.
Harder to leave marks on dark skin, he knows, but Taylor's got this down to a science. Has his nipple standing out puffy and stiff and prickling in the cool air while he attacks the other, and he's getting nails to his scalp in turn. Sharp little turns of his thumb and tugs of his fingers.
He knows this lock and all its variations. Knows what makes sam shudder and moan, what has him curling in close with hitched twists of breaths. Felix is the anomaly in Sam's skin- variations on the usual themes, a gentling due to Felix's expressed preferences- it's an art. One that Taylor attends to with all due affection and diligence.
Teeth sink in as his tongue swirls around pebbled skin, fingers crooked and grinding in an erratic pattern to keep either of them from settling in. Fast one moment and slow another, but always hard. Always sharply aimed right for that crackling bundle of nerves. Felix is still talking so, obviously, he's not working hard enough. Snaking a third finger in, twisting on the withdraw, scissoring them to feel Sam's body strain to accommodate?
Probably wont' shut him up, but it might surprise him.
His teeth snap together with a grunt, and it's clear his frame is shaking by now, trying to hold everything together. But Felix is reveling in it, and those hips slam back against Taylor's fingers with enthusiasm, desperately seeking more, more, always more.
And then a hand slips around Locus's cock to squeeze, though whether to hold off, or simply increase his enjoyment, who's to say?
"Nngh, come on. Come on, we can take it..."
The hazy look on Locus's face? Says he agrees with that sentiment. It's a look Taylor would find very familiar indeed.
He pulls off of Locus' chest with a wet pop, smirk broadening as he blows cool air over both swollen points of his chest. So goddamn sore, so goddamn gorgeous- and more. They want more. Giving more would be so goddamn easy-
It'd take more lube, up to his wrist, and he slathers it on without missing a beat. Clenching and shuddering and rocking back for more, five kinds of filthy and every last inch of him beautiful in that sweat slick desperation. "Can you really?"
It's a whiskey sweet drawl, a slick tucking of his hand in a tight cone, teeth dragging over his own bottom lip. "Deep breath."
He's going to. Holy shit, he's actually going to...
They're both keyed into this, at different points. Locus is low, deep down low, and ready for it. He wants it, wants whatever is given, because it's Taylor, and it's always good. It's already so good, sensitized skin prickling in that cool rush of breath, easing those muscles into relaxing as he feels that threatening pressure.
Which Felix is ready for. So ready for. Feeling anything is an experience, feeling this? Fucking awesome. Knowing that there's more coming?
"Don't need to breathe, stop being a goddamn tease."
"Not talking to you, cupcake." Taylor snorts a soft laugh, tucking his pinky up along with the rest at the first real test of resistance. It's a lot, he knows- but Sam's low and sweetly submissive in the moment. Pliant. Ready to take anything he gives because it's him. Felix never got him like this. Never got him to take care of him, never earned his trust like this. All the more reason to keep it good. To be gently merciless with that steady glide, leaning in to bite again at the point of Sam's left nipple.
Tugging, rolling it between his teeth even as he twists his fingers in a slow thrust. Rocks his hand up to him little by inevitable little to keep it crackling and sweet and with just the right kind of burn.
Locus's thighs quiver as Taylor pushes, spreads him wider, muscles yielding to the pressure and taking him in, little by little. Past how far his cock alone could spread him, and his fingers flex, digging tighter, and that strained moan catches at his throat as his head drops forward again. Yes, more. He can take it.
And that crackle of pleasure, the slow build of pressure and the heat, Felix can feel it all. That presence twitches at Locus's fingertips, toes curling, and for a moment? He's silent, knowing he'll get more.
"Deep breaths-" Sam needs to remember to breathe- Taylor remembers too damn well how everything fell away. How it was too much, how it was just enough. How he couldn't even think straight with that firm pressure grinding right on up. He keeps it slow. Twisting his hand on the withdraw and rocking it up gingerly. Only giving as much as Sam can take. Never pushing too hard, too fast. "There you go. Opening right up for me, aren't you? Need this?"
He pushes that much further, thumb catching just on the stretched rim. All he'd have to do is tuck it in against his fingers and Sam could take it. Take all of it.
It's so much. So full, and he's not even all the way in....
Locus leans in, forehead pressing to Taylor's as he follows that order. Deep breaths. Just keep breathing, keep feeling. Felix is close to voicing his need for more again and Locus takes it from him, squeezing fingers around his own cock just to hold off a little longer.
"Need you." He murmurs the words, and it's all him. Nothing but.
"Right here, Sam." Not going anywhere, not when Sam's like this, not when he needs him. Taylor's smile goes soft and sweet, thumb tucking in against the rest of his fingers as he slides in to the knuckle. When it seems fucking impossible that he could push further, that Sam could take more- he has to slip more lube along his skin to make it easy. Make it possible to press in that last half inch-
And what Felix feels isn't just the physical sensation. No. It starts with that smile, the heavy warmth curling in Locus's chest, that--
Locus's teeth suddenly grit together, one hand landing on Taylor's shoulder to hold himself steady, gasping roughly between his teeth as that last knuckle slipped in, and it was so much. Too much. He could focus on nothing but that swell of pressure, inescapable, and his hips shifted in an effort to adjust, to work around it, to do anything at all.
"Motherfucker." This from Felix, who was reeling too, but working Locus's cock to keep him hard, keep him sharp. Keep both of them on as even a keel as they could manage.
"I got you-" Slow, so goddamn slow, letting him take it as much as he can. As much as he can stand without hurting himself before making that last press and-
Fuck.
It's like the air's knocked out of him because he's in. Tight and clasped to the wrist in that velvety heat- the moan that rips out of him is rough and obscene. "Jesus christ, Sam."
This close, this hard, this knotted up and fucking beautiful- "Look at you."
And his head lifts. Those glowing orange eyes fix on him, lips parted slightly, and Locus just looks dazed. Gone. Floating somewhere else while his body rides his, the sensation of being so very full, of Taylor's hand resting inside of him like a heavy weight.
It's not him driving any more. Just coasting on the feeling, the overwhelming rush of it. But he still tilts his head in to crush his mouth breathlessly against Taylor's, as if meaning to devour him.
It's easier see without freaking out, now. That orange glow. It's more yellow than Sigma's, no less strange for it but. Easier to see sitting in the back of Sam's eyes. Watching him adjust. Take it, take all of it so well just for him.
He tips his head back, mouth open against Sam's, Felix's, whoever's while he slowly curls his fingers into a fist and grinds his knuckles up against Sam's prostate.
The noise made is both of them, throatier from Felix and more guttural from Locus, but it's the same sound, gut-punched and glorious as sparks hit the back of their eyes. Just the motion of curling into a fist spreads him out even further, to a point where up, he might wonder if he can take it.
Down, he knows he can. He wants to, wants to prove that he deserves this.
While Felix is all nerves sparking, drinking off the foam floating to the top and simmering, teeth against Taylor's lips as he draws in a sharp breath through Locus.
Perfect. It's always perfect, even with this new shade. Felix is- well. Just as deep in Sam's skin as Taylor's hand and ignoring that isn't really fair. Not when he's grinding his closed fist in deep, giving him what he's asked for and then some. Pulling back to look him, them, in the eye and marvel.
"Goddamn, look at you. Still want more, huh? Greedy." Spoken with tinges of affection if nothing else. "Think if I hold still you can take more?"
It takes a little more lube and a little twist to get his hand that much deeper, to give them both something to grand against. "Fucking amazing, how you take it."
Just that much deeper, and it pulls them both taunt like someone's gone and jerked on Locus's strings. But the word sink deep and warm and Locus drinks in the praise. Felix feeds from the acknowledgement -- finally -- before cocking Locus's hips back once again.
IT's a slow, purposeful roll, because it's so very much, so very large, and Locus's thighs are shaking outright as he tries to remember to breathe.
True to his word, Taylor holds his hand still. Keeps it steady, keeps his fingers curled in a fist and lets them rock back against it for more, pausing only to slide a steadying hand along their hip or add more lube to his wrist and oh. Oh christ, the way they're rolling back, greedy and five kinds of obscene, the needy clasp of Sam's body around his hand, around his wrist-
His mouth starts to run without much filter. "That's right Isaac, go ahead. Take what you want you beautiful goddamn bastard. Fuck you're doing so goddamn well, you're so fucking tight, look so fucking good taking all of it in-"
If he could glow, he would. But it's in the way Locus's head tilts back, the lazy smile that cross his lips as he slides back and squeezes tight, wanting him to feel that grip around his wrist. Only fucking fair, isn't it?
"You like that, huh?"
Locus's tongue flicks out across his lips as his hand shifts from Taylor, skims across his own chest to tweak a stiff nipple, the spasms rippling through him and almost certainly felt around the curl of his hand.
"Jesus fuck-" Tighter still and he didn't think he could. That they'd be able to bear it, his hand curled closed, knuckles grinding up against his prostate with every twitch, clench, and sigh. So slick, so impossibly tight, so goddamn surreal. "Yeah I do-"
He cants his head to the side, eye dragging a lovingly laconic line down the length of Sam's body to where his hand disappears between his thighs and back up again, locking tight on those teasing fingers tugging at Sam's already jangling nerves. "Like you're made for this. Being watched, fucking beautiful-"
Teeth rake his lower lip as his fingers move over his cock, now no longer trying to stave himself off, but to build that crescendo higher. Higher still. Every movement, every twitch of his fingers has him sparking and shaking, but he doesn't want to stop. Not ever.
There's a little wet at the corner of Locus's eyes, but he doesn't want to stop either, dragging in heavy breaths as he clenches reflexively around him, only to feel that spike of pleasure again, and again, wracking his body, surging through Felix.
"Lemme see it-" Amazing any time Sam tips over that edge- but Felix? Is new. And no less fascinating for it. Overwhelmed and overworked and he's nowhere near fucking done, cock hard and dripping between his thighs as he works his hand and wrist deeper and harder inside of their body. They want this, he wants this. Wants to watch them break apart, wants to watch them shudder and squirm when he works them over the edge and then some.
"Gonna feel better when I fuck you, yeah? When I bend you double and pound you into the mats, watch you take that like you're taking my hand- even better when I eat you out afterward till you can't fucking see straight-" Every filthy thought he can snap out as he steadies their hips and clenches his fits, rocking up against their prostate, harder, harder-
For a fleeting moment, Felix wonders if he's bitten off more than he can chew. He promptly decides there's no such thing, even after promise after promise as him and Locus winding up tighter and tighter. Until Locus keens and snaps his head back, jerking violently as he spills white-hot across his steadily pumping fingers, and over Taylor's stomach in the process.
Nothing. Just nothing, for one blissful moment. Not a single thought or plan or argument, just that waves washing through them and everything about feeling the sensations that marked that moment. The prickle of skin, the shiver of muscle and that warm, throbbing pulse that seems to drum as one throughout every inch of him.
The orange glow flickers, sputtering like a dying light for just a moment, before steadying out again, leaving Locus to try and gulp down what air he can.
It's a thing of beauty, just like every other time. Even with the orange glow sputtering and fizzling out for a moment- did that count as making his hologram go static? Probably not. Best to chase that edge as long as it lasts. His arm loops around Sam's back, holding him steady, even as his hand slowly uncurls from the fist that's clamped tight inside of him. Gives his fingers a little flutter, a slow twist as he starts to withdraw. Carefully.
Too easy to hurt them like this and he'd never-
Not in a way they don't ask for. Having been there and done that? Not fun. "Look at you-"
That same reverent awe, that same warm dripping of affection. "You're drifting hard, aren't you? Nothing else matters but what you feel, my hand in you- goddamn, Sam, Issac- my whole fucking hand. I wonder if you could take more?"
If they'd let him. If the sudden wide flare of his knuckles isn't too much in and of itself, pads of his fingers still curled up, rocking against his prostate.
Deep, gasping breaths that continue as Taylor's hands see fit to play, fluttering and flexing against yielding heat and muscle, and it's almost drunkenly that they fall forward, mouth falling over his mid-sentence, only letting a few words slip out at a time as he nips sloppily, nuzzles hot against the underside of his jaw.
Everything hums, shines, sweeps by like it means nothing in comparison, and he grins against York's chin before nipping there, too. "Fuck yeah, we could...but I thought you were gonna bend us in half, fuck us into the mat, yeah? Gonna keep us waiting?"
It's damn near a tease. Note: Felix's mood definitely seems to improve after orgasm.
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Harder to leave marks on dark skin, he knows, but Taylor's got this down to a science. Has his nipple standing out puffy and stiff and prickling in the cool air while he attacks the other, and he's getting nails to his scalp in turn. Sharp little turns of his thumb and tugs of his fingers.
"There we go..."
And of course, he continues to talk.
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Teeth sink in as his tongue swirls around pebbled skin, fingers crooked and grinding in an erratic pattern to keep either of them from settling in. Fast one moment and slow another, but always hard. Always sharply aimed right for that crackling bundle of nerves. Felix is still talking so, obviously, he's not working hard enough. Snaking a third finger in, twisting on the withdraw, scissoring them to feel Sam's body strain to accommodate?
Probably wont' shut him up, but it might surprise him.
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His teeth snap together with a grunt, and it's clear his frame is shaking by now, trying to hold everything together. But Felix is reveling in it, and those hips slam back against Taylor's fingers with enthusiasm, desperately seeking more, more, always more.
And then a hand slips around Locus's cock to squeeze, though whether to hold off, or simply increase his enjoyment, who's to say?
"Nngh, come on. Come on, we can take it..."
The hazy look on Locus's face? Says he agrees with that sentiment. It's a look Taylor would find very familiar indeed.
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It'd take more lube, up to his wrist, and he slathers it on without missing a beat. Clenching and shuddering and rocking back for more, five kinds of filthy and every last inch of him beautiful in that sweat slick desperation. "Can you really?"
It's a whiskey sweet drawl, a slick tucking of his hand in a tight cone, teeth dragging over his own bottom lip. "Deep breath."
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They're both keyed into this, at different points. Locus is low, deep down low, and ready for it. He wants it, wants whatever is given, because it's Taylor, and it's always good. It's already so good, sensitized skin prickling in that cool rush of breath, easing those muscles into relaxing as he feels that threatening pressure.
Which Felix is ready for. So ready for. Feeling anything is an experience, feeling this? Fucking awesome. Knowing that there's more coming?
"Don't need to breathe, stop being a goddamn tease."
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Tugging, rolling it between his teeth even as he twists his fingers in a slow thrust. Rocks his hand up to him little by inevitable little to keep it crackling and sweet and with just the right kind of burn.
Just for Sam. For them.
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And that crackle of pleasure, the slow build of pressure and the heat, Felix can feel it all. That presence twitches at Locus's fingertips, toes curling, and for a moment? He's silent, knowing he'll get more.
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He pushes that much further, thumb catching just on the stretched rim. All he'd have to do is tuck it in against his fingers and Sam could take it. Take all of it.
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Locus leans in, forehead pressing to Taylor's as he follows that order. Deep breaths. Just keep breathing, keep feeling. Felix is close to voicing his need for more again and Locus takes it from him, squeezing fingers around his own cock just to hold off a little longer.
"Need you." He murmurs the words, and it's all him. Nothing but.
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Locus's teeth suddenly grit together, one hand landing on Taylor's shoulder to hold himself steady, gasping roughly between his teeth as that last knuckle slipped in, and it was so much. Too much. He could focus on nothing but that swell of pressure, inescapable, and his hips shifted in an effort to adjust, to work around it, to do anything at all.
"Motherfucker." This from Felix, who was reeling too, but working Locus's cock to keep him hard, keep him sharp. Keep both of them on as even a keel as they could manage.
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Fuck.
It's like the air's knocked out of him because he's in. Tight and clasped to the wrist in that velvety heat- the moan that rips out of him is rough and obscene. "Jesus christ, Sam."
This close, this hard, this knotted up and fucking beautiful- "Look at you."
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It's not him driving any more. Just coasting on the feeling, the overwhelming rush of it. But he still tilts his head in to crush his mouth breathlessly against Taylor's, as if meaning to devour him.
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He tips his head back, mouth open against Sam's, Felix's, whoever's while he slowly curls his fingers into a fist and grinds his knuckles up against Sam's prostate.
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Down, he knows he can. He wants to, wants to prove that he deserves this.
While Felix is all nerves sparking, drinking off the foam floating to the top and simmering, teeth against Taylor's lips as he draws in a sharp breath through Locus.
And then wiggles his hips back. A true glutton.
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"Goddamn, look at you. Still want more, huh? Greedy." Spoken with tinges of affection if nothing else. "Think if I hold still you can take more?"
It takes a little more lube and a little twist to get his hand that much deeper, to give them both something to grand against. "Fucking amazing, how you take it."
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Just that much deeper, and it pulls them both taunt like someone's gone and jerked on Locus's strings. But the word sink deep and warm and Locus drinks in the praise. Felix feeds from the acknowledgement -- finally -- before cocking Locus's hips back once again.
IT's a slow, purposeful roll, because it's so very much, so very large, and Locus's thighs are shaking outright as he tries to remember to breathe.
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His mouth starts to run without much filter. "That's right Isaac, go ahead. Take what you want you beautiful goddamn bastard. Fuck you're doing so goddamn well, you're so fucking tight, look so fucking good taking all of it in-"
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"You like that, huh?"
Locus's tongue flicks out across his lips as his hand shifts from Taylor, skims across his own chest to tweak a stiff nipple, the spasms rippling through him and almost certainly felt around the curl of his hand.
"You like watching us?"
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He cants his head to the side, eye dragging a lovingly laconic line down the length of Sam's body to where his hand disappears between his thighs and back up again, locking tight on those teasing fingers tugging at Sam's already jangling nerves. "Like you're made for this. Being watched, fucking beautiful-"
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Teeth rake his lower lip as his fingers move over his cock, now no longer trying to stave himself off, but to build that crescendo higher. Higher still. Every movement, every twitch of his fingers has him sparking and shaking, but he doesn't want to stop. Not ever.
There's a little wet at the corner of Locus's eyes, but he doesn't want to stop either, dragging in heavy breaths as he clenches reflexively around him, only to feel that spike of pleasure again, and again, wracking his body, surging through Felix.
"So close, fuck, but you feel good. Shit..."
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"Gonna feel better when I fuck you, yeah? When I bend you double and pound you into the mats, watch you take that like you're taking my hand- even better when I eat you out afterward till you can't fucking see straight-" Every filthy thought he can snap out as he steadies their hips and clenches his fits, rocking up against their prostate, harder, harder-
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Nothing. Just nothing, for one blissful moment. Not a single thought or plan or argument, just that waves washing through them and everything about feeling the sensations that marked that moment. The prickle of skin, the shiver of muscle and that warm, throbbing pulse that seems to drum as one throughout every inch of him.
The orange glow flickers, sputtering like a dying light for just a moment, before steadying out again, leaving Locus to try and gulp down what air he can.
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Too easy to hurt them like this and he'd never-
Not in a way they don't ask for. Having been there and done that? Not fun. "Look at you-"
That same reverent awe, that same warm dripping of affection. "You're drifting hard, aren't you? Nothing else matters but what you feel, my hand in you- goddamn, Sam, Issac- my whole fucking hand. I wonder if you could take more?"
If they'd let him. If the sudden wide flare of his knuckles isn't too much in and of itself, pads of his fingers still curled up, rocking against his prostate.
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Everything hums, shines, sweeps by like it means nothing in comparison, and he grins against York's chin before nipping there, too. "Fuck yeah, we could...but I thought you were gonna bend us in half, fuck us into the mat, yeah? Gonna keep us waiting?"
It's damn near a tease. Note: Felix's mood definitely seems to improve after orgasm.
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