anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

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.

Only Delta knows how York tends to frame how he views his life and his relationships, such as they are- the way he sees the world and tries to work out the best course of action at any given moment. For Sam to reach out and pick those words out of his mind-

D must've said something forever ago.

He can't find it in him to care, too pleased and too relieved to hear it. Voice low in the space between them, he murmurs against Sam's lips. "It's a constant as long as I can help it."

"Good." The word comes quiet and soft as he presses his mouth back at York's, slowly working open his lips into a deeper, warmer kiss. This will be theirs as long as they can manage it, and Locus doesn't plan on letting go any time soon.

There's a small noise as he draws back a second time, nose wrinkling faintly. "We're filthy," he notes dryly.

Like always he yields, lips parting, head tipping back, eyes slipping closed to feel the warmth and weight of Sam's mouth against his. The slow glide of his tongue twisting out a faint shiver as always. Even if he's fucked out. The spirit is willing- the body? Sore.

"Yeah we are." He smirks, slowly sitting up and pulling Sam with him. "I think that was the first time I'd ever heard you curse. Ever."

And that not-blushing move Sam pulls? The glancing aside and looking sheepish? Yeah. That's what's happening right at this very moment, and he clears his throat before smoothing his hair back out of his face.

He's not exactly proud of that, thanks for reminding him.

"I don't think swearing under duress counts against you." He leans up to kiss Sam's cheek. Whatever made him not is still some kind of relevant and not something he's gonna mock. Even if it was crazy hot. "You're in the clear. No harm, no foul."

There's a faint grumbling noise of acceptance before he starts to move towards the edge of the bed, wincing. He aches. Every single part of him aches, and it's only going to get worse, but he doesn't regret a second of that. Particularly when it had silenced Felix so effectively.

Pulling to his feet, he turns to help Taylor up with him. Shower? Shower seems like an excellent idea.

Taylor leans over to kiss the cap of Sam's shoulder before rolling out of bed. Okay. Everything's a little sore and he's pretty sure he's gone and chafed himself- but it'd been worth it.

Hand in hand he hauls himself off the bed and grunts, stumbling in the direction of the bathroom. "Shower, scalding. I cannot believe I fucked you for an hour."

"Neither can I."

And he feels it. Oh God, does he feel it, down to his bones. But he's walked after worse. So he's the one at Taylor's side helping him to the bathroom, even if his own legs are a little shaky.

"Had you ever done that before?"

"Not on this end of things." Shower, water as hot as it can get and for once? He's not gonna bitch about it. "I had this woman I'd see on leave now and then and she had a fucking machine she'd strap me into, just to see how long I could take it. With lube reapplication and water breaks? I made it to an hour before calling mercy."

So. It seemed reasonable enough to promise the same.

"Couldn't think straight for a whole damn night."

"I know the feeling."

He's still a little hazy, though nothing bad enough to keep him from propping himself up in the shower, letting his eyes slide shut as the water sprays down from the nozzle. That feels worlds better.

"You're saying you'd be up for it again?" One eye crooks. Payback seems appropriate.

"You were fucking beautiful, Lobo." He leans against Sam, nosing into his shoulder before peeling off to find the shampoo. It's. Somewhere. Getting him strung out like that, taking him, watching him crack apart over and over-

It'd been amazing.

"With a machine? Fuck no. With you?" There it is- he snags the bottle and pours a measure into his hands, reaching up to start working it through Sam's hair. "Always."

"That was the idea." And with his head tipped back like that, it's easy to simply let Taylor continue, feeling the tug and rub of those fingers and readily distracting from the soreness.

"Though we may want to give it sometime before we try again."

"Save it for a rainy day." Or a reward for after a particularly difficult mission, one of the two. Work's far from his mind, though, working his fingers against Sam's scalp in slow circles, rubbing out every shred of tension he finds.

Delta's being- contemplative and quiet, but that's nothing new. He'll worry about that later.

There's no reliably quicker way to turn him into putty than rifling his fingers through his hair, and even now that proves the case. His shoulders sag as the warm water sprays over them, and he leans his head forward when prompted to get at the nape of his neck.

"Mm. Nap, first."

"You earned it." Taking his hand, taking that, letting him eat him out afterward? Sam lets him get away with murder more or less- and maybe he should worry about that. Where the lines are, if there are lines-

But after their talk at Casbah? He's going to trust that if anything seems off, Sam will say.

Scalp to nape to shoulders to spine, following the knots and tense muscles as they appear, rubbing them out with clever fingers and the odd press of his elbow when they're particularly stubborn.

At some point he turns, resting his arms folded against the shower wall, to let him work. This and a lot of water before they turn in will certainly help the soreness, come morning, but he doubts they'll be getting up to much in the day to follow.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore as fuck." But it'd been worth it. The chafing, the ache in his knees, the desert dry thirst still cutting through the back of his throat. He'll take care of himself later. Right now he's taking care of these knots and tense spots along Sam's shoulders and spine, working his way gently to his hips and ass. So damn red and raw, this skin, and he gives half a thought to some kind of lotion before satisfying himself with a feather light brushing of his hands over the skin, cleaning him off delicately.

"Exhausted. I'll probably pass out first."

"You did well."

Locus turns his head to look back at him, to watch him. Always so careful with him, and even when he pushed? It was always with his permission, always with complete and utter trust. And the way he'd taken him, just completely owned him and broken him apart...

No one else had done that. No one else could do that, and leave him this satisfied and relaxed after. Felix had pushed, sure, but he'd always felt something bitter in the wake of their more...extensive sessions.

"Good to hear." Taylor huffs a soft laugh, well pleased. Knowing that he didn't push too hard, that he didn't fuck up in the heat of the moment? Settles him. Not that he thinks Sam world let him without using his word, but- fears tend to be irrational.

He as to drop down with a wince to work on Sam's legs, frowning a little. "How are your thighs? Any cramps?"

"It's a little tight. I'm thinking a day off my feet tomorrow," he replies with a hum, before turning more fully. "I think it'll be fine. You don't have to..."

He's got to be feeling it, every bit as much as Locus is, at the moment. Being the one on top was every bit as physically demanding, this he knew.

"I want to." He peers back up with a smirk, squeezing Sam's hips. "I'll take a hot soak in the morning."

Of course he's feeling it, but taking care of Sam is priority one. He'll worry about himself tomorrow. Even if he winces when he stands. "Come on. The beds calling."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject