anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

Oh, he's breathing. Great gasps for air that relax only slightly when that rhythm mercifully eases, and Locus turns his face, trying to conceal the fact that his eyes had started to water.

But a moment later Felix has hold of him again. His gaze shifts up, and his hands reach, tugging York down to run his tongue across his lower lip, nipping encouragingly.

"Neither are we. Not by a long shot. Watch. I'll get him back up again...and then we're gonna pull you down with us," Felix promises, his stare intent.

"Bring it, string-bean." None of the bite- he's too breathless. Too wound up, most of his mind a staticked haze of sensation and visual stimuli, whole body trembling with each thrust. It feels like a fucking eternity- but he keeps on. Reapplies lube as needed. Sucks on Felix's tongue when it's offered like it'll distract him from this overwhelming heat.

For a few seconds it does. Slick and filthy and sharp he loses a little time just thrusting his tongue into Sam's mouth, pulling away to breathe. Up again. Up and dragged right back down and god-

He'll have to make it last. Have to. "I can- I can do this all day-"

"Do what? Tell me..."

Felix sounds more than a little ragged, less antagnoistic than goading, wanting more, wanting that last little bit. And he'll do what it takes to get it, too. Flirting his fingers across Locus's length until it starts to stir again, urging him to firm up in his grasp while he tongues the inside of York's mouth.

That bitter taste is still on his lips, too.

"Fuck you till-" Christ. Till what? What'd he say? "Till your hologram fizzles out. Till you can't think straight-"

He says, well on the way to that his own damn self. Hard to breathe, hard to hold, hard to keep track of limbs and time and anything more complicated than base, animal rutting in and in and in over and over while he licks that taste from Felix's mouth. The intimately familiar salty tang of Sam's come sliding along their lips hooks in deep and it doesn't matter how much of his senses Delta tries to dull or remove to keep them going- he's on his last legs here.

"Yeah, but you're gonna ruin poor Loc before that happens. Look at him. Got him all stretched out...panting and moaning for you."

It's true. Locus is a ragged mess, holding together by the seams and squirming, thrusting back against him, fingers digging across Taylor's scalp as that wire-thin thread stretches to the breaking point yet again.

And save jumping off the neural lace, Felix is going to get the full brunt of it. He licks Locus's lips, pushing just as hard, heels digging against his shoulder blades.

"Gonna make your lobo howl? Come on, just fucking do it already!"

Delta-

Sufficient time has passed, finish this. So he can go back to not being so present in the proceedings, thank you. This isn't- it's fascinating but it isn't how he would do things if he were to dip his toes into it.

York lets Delta fall back, lets everythign slam into him as he slams home. Hard, deep, ragged- just shy of the hour, maybe, but at this point he doesn't care. He's got Sam spread out and desperate for him, he's got fire in his veins and burning through his spine aching for a point of release and his whole world snarls and tangles in the snap of his hips slick and obscene. The slap of skin to skin, the ragged rasp of their breath as he leans down to bite the side of Sam's throat.

Make him howl. Make him shatter so he can fucking follow."

There it is. It makes a difference, Felix thinks, when Taylor's in the process of falling apart too. That sweet, staggered desperation as he clutches and thrusts and bites, that's what he's been after.

Locus, meanwhile, is already in pieces, barely held together, and at that bite everything bursts and falls away all over again. The pain centers him and he arches into him, a noise like a wounded animal falling free as he spasms, hard. Wraps his arms tightly around Taylor and rides that lightning strike out, and just like a lightning strike it has that glow in his eyes stuttering.

It's so much, too much to process in one go. For either of them. But he doesn't let go.

Desperately driven, frantic, falling. Letting go of the last scraps of his composure to crawl as deep into Sam's skin as this allows and slamming home. Burying himself deep as all that tension snaps and heat rockets through him, scraping his nerves raw on the way out. An hour. Nearly an hour and he's outside of his goddamn mind, hands tight against sweat slick thighs, eyes closed, mouth working against Sam's throat as he locks up tight.

Shudders apart and damn near collapses on top of Sam while he waits for the world to fade back in from where it'd cracked apart around them. Hitched, heavy breaths catch in his throat while his heart slows from manic rush to a solid baseline of 'fucked out'.

So. So damn fucked out.

Slick, sweaty, sticky inside and out, and yet he can't be bothered to move. To do anything but feel the echoes of pleasure pinging his nerve endings again and again, ghosting over his skin as he recalls them. Dark hair sticks damply to his skin as he turns, slipping his legs free if only to settle into a position a little more comfortable, a little easier to wind around Taylor and settle in close.

As much a mess as they are right now, all he wants to do is bask in the hum, the warmth, resting his chin atop Taylor's head and pulling him in. His heart's still racing, thrumming so loudly in his ears he doubts he could hear anything else.

And Felix is mercifully silent.

Two impossible things down, one to go. If he can make himself move. If he can bear to peel himself out of Sam's embrace to slither down far enough to get to number three. Maybe in a little while when he's done panting against his skin. Coming down from that manic high is difficult but- damn well worth it. Just so he can focus enough to turn his head and press his lips against Sam's pulse.

Felix silent. Fizzled out for the moment and all this beautiful skin a sweaty ruin cuz of him. Hot damn.

Everything throbs, everything aches, but it's the best ache in the world. Some of it gnaws and crackles and some of it has already melted into a warm wave that laps over his senses, and he gives a pleased hum when those lips slide across his pulse.

It all still feels hypersensitive, even now. The air, the feel of skin on skin, all of it, and that could be why Felix hasn't piped up yet. Going from feeling nothing to feeling this much, and not regulating it? It's no wonder he popped.

Meanwhile, Locus is content to hold and be held, to nuzzle quietly into the crown of Taylor's head and inhale deeply. That. That had been.

That isn't over yet. Just. Give him a moment more to settle. To remember how to breathe, how to think, how to move. Little by little he unpeels, lips and tongue working on a slow, inevitable path downwards. Licking up sweat and come and the warm tang of Sam's skin that's him and him alone.

He's a man of his word, he said. Fucked them double he did. Eating them out will be-

Comparatively lazy by comparison, as he settles between Sam's thighs, lips working at the join between leg and hip. Lazy little licks as he hooks his thumbs in to give himself enough room. When he gets to it.

He'd...

Completely forgotten that he'd said he'd go down afterwords. It results in a faint noise of disgruntlement when Taylor slips free, but he trusts him. Lets him skim downward, tasting the salt of his skin and the slick fluids glistening across his chest and stomach.

When he gets down between his thighs suddenly he recalls, and there's a low moan in the back of his throat, half-anticipation and half-worry. God, he's imagining it and it's already threading his nerves so sharply he's not sure if he can take it.

He wants to try, though, and he pushes up onto his elbows in order to watch him. As best he can.

After everything else he's done- Taylor's gentle. Keeps the slow pass of his tongue light, keeps his thrusts shallow. Slow and easy and careful with nerves that are bound to be overworked and rubbed just this side of raw. One hand slips up to tangle their fingers together, thumb tapping the side of Sam's hand.

The implication that he can just say the word and he'll pull off is heavy. One sign and he'll climb back up, nose in against his throat and pass out there for a short while.

But for now there's the feather light brush of his lips against sensitive skin, the slow twist and dip of his tongue teasing out the lube and come he'd worked into Sam so carefully not an hour ago.

Air leaves his lungs again in a rush, his head tipping back despite himself as his hand squeezed Taylor's. Hard. Even those gentle, teasing brushes of tongue and lips had him standing on point all over against, the muscles in his thighs quivering hard.

So much, too much, can't stop...

Was that a whimper? It had to be Felix, had to be.

Must be. Sam doesn't whimper unless he's down, way, way down. Doesn't scream without some kinda pain or overstimulation. This is probably straddling the line of all those things even if he's trying so hard to keep it easy. Keep it good.

Taylor slows to a stop, even, at that whimper. Gauges the sound the tension thrumming through Sam's body before pressing onward. Gliding his tongue deeper, curling it along strained muscle on each withrdraw.

Like a string being cut, that tension drops him. Instead of being tight and taut, jaw clenched, he lets himself unravel. Lips part in short, breathy noises as York curls and flicks his tongue, and if he doesn't fight it? If he just lets it sink into everything else, into the blossoming heat flooding every inch of his skin, then he can ride through this without it being too much.

And then, finally, it feels like something's helping to guide those sensations through, rifling through the back of his bind and pulling away what he doesn't need, what does push towards overstimulation.

There they go. Felix has, apparently, come up enough to give a helping hand like a good bro. Taylor makes a mental note to thank him later. For now he focuses on coaxing out more of those soft noises, those breathe moans. Tries, maybe, to earn a whimper. Something soft and sharply sweet, something to compliment the give of Sam's body around his tongue.

Well he's not exactly holding back. Those noises continue as Taylor works him open, legs spreading as wide as he can, though that shiver hasn't quite left him. It hums in every inch of him as that tongue plies him open, works against those sore inner walls, and he tries to keep from squirming.

Tries and fails. His head tosses, hair puddling darkly behind him, teeth raking across his lower lip before another thin, strained noise slips free. ]

His favorite music, Sam half outside his mind. Overworked and overwhelmed- maybe he is a little sadistic in how he likes getting him here. Likes keeping him here, stringing it along as much as possible before letting either of them rest.

Taylor's free hand settles on Sam's abdomen, stockbroking in slow, soothing passes as he thrusts his tongue in deep, sucking lube and come out little by little.

It's filthy, absolutely obscene, the noises drifting up from between his thighs where Taylor is licking him clean, and he's not sure how much more of this he can take. It's trying to wind him up again, even with Felix binding up the excess and trying to siphon it away, and his heels slip and dig in for traction with each stroke and thrust of that nimble little muscle diving slickly in and out of his hole.

"York..." he finally croaks, eyes sliding shut as he turns his head away, fingers digging in behind him. "York, please..."

It's as close to a cry for mercy as he's ever heard. Sam's as clean as he's going to get him and honestly? He's just as strung out and tired. With one last loving thrust of his tongue he pulls away, lips dragging against the inside of Sam's thigh to drop an almost chaste kiss there. "Okay."

They're done. No more, they're finished. "Okay, I'm done."Crawling back up the line of Sam's body is an effort but he slots himself in like he belongs there (he does) and settles in at his throat like he'd been before, murmuring soft, soothing nonsense.

Almost at once Locus turns, arms winding around him and pulling him in tight against him. He does belong there, and Locus doesn't want him anywhere else, for the moment. Those shivers are still working their way out of his system, catching him by surprise now and then, but having York there, that warm firm presence? That helps.

Felix still hasn't made an appearance, and likely won't for some time. Like a glutton having feasted, he needs time to process it all before he returns to make commentary.

Taylor settles easily, clean hand slipping up to comb through Sam's hair in slow, soothing passes. "I'm here, m'not going anywhere."

No matter how much Felix might want that exact thing- they're stuck with him. Up till they put a bullet in him or he has to pull the trigger- they're stuck with him. Because even more than the missions and sex and powerdynamics- there's this. The tight clasp, those quiet shivers- this sincere, overwhelming affection. "I'm here."

"That was..."

The words rumble roughly in the back of his throat before he makes a noncommittal noise, nuzzling into the crown of Taylor's head instead. He'd felt him inside and out, felt that determined, possessive bent, something that doesn't come out all that often. Normally it's Locus who turns possessive, who sets about wanting to claim Taylor in earnest.

Different. But wholly welcome.

"He enjoyed that," he adds after a moment, letting out a heavy breath as his heart starts to slow its rapidfire pulsing. "Whatever he says later."

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