anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

"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."

It's hard to argue when he's so very tired. After a moment he nods, reaching up to wring out his hair as the water shuts itself off. Best to leave it to air dry. It'll be fine, come morning.

And if it needs a little brushing, Taylor likes the opportunity to fuss with his long hair. Half the reason he likes it this length, he imagines.

Towels, bed. Dry, sleep. His mind settles into the simple creature requirements for a restful sort of passing out as he towels himself off, helps Sam do the same, and starts shuffling to the bedroom. He guides Sam with the odd nudge before crawling back in bed, flopping over on his side. There's plenty of room for him to curl up in front or behind, whichever he finds more appealing.

Edited 2016-12-09 15:49 (UTC)

The old habits stick hard. He settles in at his back, though turning to wrap his arms around York rather than settle back to back in the old, familiar ways he and Felix had always managed. This way was better, if one of them was awakened during the night by bad dreams, bad memories.

And it kept York considerably warmer.

A kiss presses to the nape of his neck, a quiet reassurance that everything was fine. Sleep was all they need concern themselves with now.

As predicted after a moment's slight squirming to press back against Sam's chest and adjust his pillow- Taylor drops off like a light, utterly exhausted. In the quiet of his mind there's a half formed question followed by muzzy agreement before Delta flickers into view at eye level for Locus.

Less effort for him while they have this conversation.

"If I could have a moment?" For the first time since meeting Locus Delta seems...hesitant. Uncertain. His holographic projection is slightly slumped at the shoulders, the pads of his fingers drumming oh so slightly against a thigh plate. A nervous fidget he'd picked up from York.

Locus's eyes flicker open, regarding the little green hologram with a furrowed brow. When Delta speaks to him directly, something's usually up. It's reason enough for some preemptive concern.

"What is it?" In the same tone one might say 'of course'.

"Hypothetically-" And that in and of itself is different from the norm. Delta operates in statistics. What is most likely to happen, what ought to happen, the most logical course of action that will be beneficial to Taylor and, in turn, Locus. 'What if's' are York's territory, not his. "If I were to..."

He notices the fidgeting and forces himself still. "To engage with you as York does while present in the neural lace as Felix did-"

Ah. So he'd seen what came of it. Obviously it would be a matter of some intellectual interest, the idea of being able to feel as they did, to tap into the sensations at play, things Delta would never otherwise experience.

"Feeling a little curious?" Locus's expression softens, his head tipping slightly.

"I have reviewed his memories of your time together and observed you often enough to know what I would and would not find enjoyable-" There's a tinny rasp, Delta's digital version of clearing his throat. "And I may have taken the liberty of discussing the possibility of deeper neural net integration with York in this way previously. He insists I sit in on a 'solo session' before broaching the subject with you, but that will not suffice."

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