anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

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."

"Well." He snorts softly, nosing up against the underside of Sam's jaw. It's warming, a little, to know that Sam doesn't have the words. That he managed his goal- but more than any of that? He'd made his point. Felix might've had Sam for eight years- but he'd fucked up. Taylor? Isn't going to fuck this up.

He's being careful. He's taking care.

"It wasn't all for him, you know. Most of it was for you." Like always. "But yeah, I made him pop. Didn't even know I could do that."

"I know."

His fingers ease in their grip, if only to be able to draw light circles across Taylor's back, skidding across slick skin and muscle. Slowly, a smile curls across his lips. "Oh. He does that. I've just never felt him do it inside of my head before," he murmurs, sounding amused.

"He gets overwhelmed and pops often?" That could be a problem. Delta makes a note to dig through what they have on the meta again before they mutually push that fear away. Neither felix nor Sam is in any pain right now, it must be ok. "Kinda tickles, huh?"

Describing ai shit is weird, but not impossible. For now he kisses Sam's chin, stupidly pleased with himself.

"Not since he was integrated. But when we were partners..." He huffs. "You heard him. He's greedy. Bites off more than he can chew."

And there had been a time when Locus would give him all he asked for and more. Now, his priority is Taylor. He tips his head and hums at the kiss, continuing to trace against his back, letting his fingers slip to his side to follow where he knew the new tattoo to be.

"He needs to be careful. We still don't know what all they did to him, it could get him hurt." And sam in turn. Still. Worries for another time. Right now there's Sam touching his new ink and that? Makes him shiver, just a little. "Delta designed it. Picked the placement and colors "

"It's beautiful."

His voice is still soft, still slightly hazy and thick, but the words are honest. The tattoo, the design, the placement, the gesture itself? All beautiful. York has made him a part of him now, no matter what happens.

Even if the worst should come to pass, he'll be there. He'll be there with him and that means something. And in the next instant he's turning his head to bury his nose in Taylor's hair.

"He's very proud. And glad you like it." As much a part of him as delta, is Sam. Everything they've fine, everything they've shared? He'd left its own kind of Mark on him. These stars and lives seem lie so little in the face of it all but- it's enough if Sam's voice is anything to go by.

No matter what, he'll have this. He'll have these moments locked in his memory until the end of him. York reaches up gently to stroke Sam's cheek, sighing happily. Moments like this he'll keep. Always. "Where you gonna put yours? Or should I let you surprise me?"

"I thought about having it somewhere I could see it easily...although there's probably more room on my back." He huffs, letting his head drop, far enough that he can peer down at Taylor again. "The inside of my forearm was a thought."

It would certainly be present and noticeable, but it was meant for him. A reminder.

"That'll sting like a bitch." He murmurs as he trails his fingers down Sam's shoulder top his arm, finishing qith a swipe of his thumb over the skin in question. Somewhere they can both look and know-

Sam is his. A way Felix could never have, a way he can't comprehend. The stars and these moments are theirs. No one else's. "But it'd look good."

"I can take it."

If it wasn't clear by now that he could handle discomfort...

But it shouldn't be an easy task, branding yourself with another person. It should hurt. It should mean something. And now he's more certain than ever that this is what he wants.

"Good. Because I've already decided on it."

"Just let me know when and I'll get you the number for my guy." He tips his head back enough to look up at all that grey green. No orange. No gold. Just his Sam being warm and open and honest. Christ, how far have they come from that first meeting?

Farther than he'd ever thought possible.

"Sam-" Don't say it, don't say it, nothing good will come out of saying it, they work just fine without ever saying it- "You know I..."

He can see the hesitation there, the fear, the need to say it regardless, and he knows what those words are. Without having to wait for him to find them on his tongue.

Locus doesn't try to stop him, but he smiles, in a way that says yes, he knows. One hand lifts to travel down the length of York's cheek, trailing across the scar that used to cause him to shy away.

They both had their guards up to start, in different ways. For many of the same reasons. They've come a long, long way from then.

One day he'll get his shit together enough to say it. One day. He'll say it, he'll say it first and mean it but- he can't quite get it past the knot in his throat yet. For now he takes that smile as answer enough, tilting his face into Sam's hand. He knows. Taylor knows he knows and that's good enough.

No one and nothing can take this from them.

"It's dumb. I'm...so damn sure that when I say it things will go to shit." It always did in the past. Pattern recognition is a thing, even if it isn't an entirely reasonable thing.

"You don't have to." Locus's teeth rake across his lower lip as he tips his head inward, hands returning to smoothing down Taylor's side, until they settle against his hips. "It...it's difficult to say."

And a little foolish. Saying it changes nothing, not when they both know, surely. He takes a breath, gaze lifting. "But I know. I...feel the same."

"I feel like I should." Delta doesn't get it. They are both aware of the sentiment but- feelings don't make sense all the time. Here it is all the same, that warmth, that affection, that honest assessment.

But they both feel what they feel. And know it to be true. That should be enough.

That is enough.

York lifts a hand to curl around the back of Sam's neck and pulls him into a slow, sweet kiss. All gentle affection, all the emotion he can pour in safely.

And Locus returns the kiss wholly, mouth crushing against his, all warmth and weight and the slow slide of tongue, before he draws back, lids heavy. "This isn't a variable. It's a constant. And it will be as long as I can make it so."

Maybe that will suffice. He remembers Delta telling him of York's fear, his insecurity, and maybe by putting it in those terms? It would be close enough to what they can never quite bring themselves to say.

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