anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

There's a small rumble of approval. That's good, didn't even need any prompting. If he can fall into what feels good and simply follow instinct, it might serve him better than any plans he might already have. Thought of course those desires might still have a chance to play themselves out.

For the moment, there's pleasure to be discovered in this. Gentle nuzzling, breathing in the scent of his hair and stroking his fingers back along his scalp before faint scraping his nails against his scalp, in that way Taylor always seems to appreciate.

"How does it feel so far?"

"Warm." Which could go without saying, but it's all consuming, radiating outward from the center of York's chest. Is this that sentiment? That connection that goes beyond anything he's felt before? "I have a heightened awareness of my lips- and yours."

Where they are. Where they aren't.

Delta shivers at the drag of nails, pressing back info the sensation despite his personal uncertainty regarding whether or not he enjoys it. A moments thought gives him his answer: he does. "I am enjoying this. Your proximity, the anticipation..."

"Then we'll keep going. I think I know what to do with that awareness of yours..."

With a faint curl of his lips, Locus shifts back, just enough to catch Delta's eyes with his own. Then he tips in, and it's slow, that progress to mold his lips against his, feeling the familiar warm, pliant feel of them, all while that hand still rested at the back of Delta's head, cradling against him.

It's damn near chaste, at first. ]

A few words and his pulse ticks higher, the flush in his cheeks trailing down his throat as he swallows. This he's seen, visited often. Something york enjoyed and it feels like a small eternity between their eyes meeting and their lips touching. A faint involuntary sound shivers out of Delta. Surprised despite knowing it was coming. Perhaps by the intensity of sensation or the realization that yes, they're doing this.

Whatever the reason he leans into the kiss, free hand slipping up to settle almost delicately against Locus' shoulder. Spend a lifetime operating inside a suit of power armor- you tend to adjust for stresses that might nit exist otherwise.

Delicate or no, Locus has got him. He can feel that it's not hesitation so much as the uncertainty that keeps his touch light, and he nudges closer. Teases teeth across Delta's lower lip before flicking a tongue gently across the crease of his mouth. They're small gestures in comparison, but that's what he needs.

Little steps, slowly immersing himself and adjusting. That first, soft noise is as sweet as anything, and his fingers curl and stroke through his hair, reassuring.

Small variables added to a currently simple equation, settling into a whole new process. if teeth then shiver, if tongue then part lips. If nudge then follow, head tilting back, fingers curling tight in Locus' shirt. Another, lower twist of sound shivers out of him as he tastes that warmth, Locus' breath. Tentative he slips the tip of his tongue out to trace the seam of Locus' lips in turn. Mimicking his motions until he has enough to try acting on his own.

It's how these things are learned, more often than not. So Delta earns a response with his actions. When he darts his tongue out, there's an answer flick of his own, warm and coaxing. Encouraging him to do more, to take more for himself. This was meant to be for him, after all.

Meanwhile, Locus contemplates leaning him back into the sheets, although it might be too soon for that. They'd see. Give it a moment or two more.

If his tongue, more of Locus' tongue, and that is enough to prompt a louder noise low in his throat, a longer flick of his tongue in turn. Chasing that slick twist of muscle as he pulls himself close, all but painted against Locus' side. It's so warm. So very warm and he feels that awareness spread, suddenly caught in the glide of their tongues, the hand in his hair. Tentatively he slips his hand up to stoke Locus', fingers combing gently.

And Locus hums under those fingers, eyes sliding shut. How he melts under that touch, sagging slightly before coming to, and finally nudging Delta back into the waiting sheets, smooth and clean, just behind him.

A little maneuvering and he's got a knee on either side of his hips to keep the weight off of him, but there's no rush. More slow, lazy kissing is just fine by him.

Another variable added to the equation that is this experience- constant contact equals ease, a variation would provide...what? It's simple enough to curl his fingers just so and apply his nails against Locus' scalp, even as he's guided back. There's the momentary alarm at being prone and vulnerable but-

It is Locus. They trust Locus and he wouldn't ever do anything to cause them harm.

Gradually he untangles his hand from Locus' fingers and rests it on his waist. hip would be more appropriate but baby steps are a thing.

He's actually doing well, from Locus's standpoint. He takes that next step without prompting, and Locus breaks the kiss only to nuzzle down over his jaw, to nibble across the familiar stiff lines before dipping lower, moving across his throat.

Just a lazy scrape of teeth, a flicker of tongue. All while smoothing his hands up along his sides, down again over his hips. See? Easy. Don't even have to think about it.

Waist to ribs, feeling the slow thud of Locus' pulse, nails again on his scalp from crown to nape and there's the familiar buzz of an AI implant. Strange how this one is set up, stranger still how it seems to warm under his fingers-

Delta bypasses it and resumes smoothing his hand back up into Locus' hair. Felix isn't involved in this. Just them.

A quiet prompting from York has his hand slipping down to Locus' hip, squeezing as his head falls back. Teeth should hurt but it's so light a scrape it only brings his nerves to crackling awareness in time for Locus' tongue. "Ah-"

Good. It. It's good.

If he's this sensitive now, just imagine what it would be like once Locus had applied his mouth elsewhere.

But for now, he's taking his time. Seeking out that pulsepoint in his throat and sucking against it gently, kneading with his teeth before laving his tongue across the mark in a warm swipe. Just enough to leave a faint mark beneath the surface of his skin.

And those lips skate downward, closing around the jut of a collarbone.

"Still feeling good?"

Teeth, vein, his mind skitters through calculations on clamping, damage, bleeding out- his pulse rockets, his breath goes tight, shallow until York reaches forward enough to calm him. It is only Locus. Locus who wants them to enjoy this, to feel good, who would never hurt them.

The momentary anxiety subsides leaving only that hyperawareness of his mouth, his tongue, the inevitable trail they are taking. Delta swallows, fingers twitching in Locus' hair as he deliberately tips his head back to offer him more room to work. "Affirmative."

He swallows thickly, his other hand skidding up to curl in Locus' hair. It feels the safest place right now. "Should I- ah. Disrobe?"

"If you like."

One more kiss and Locus leans back, pushing himself up onto his knees to allow Delta the room to do as he pleases. And to observe that flush under his skin, of course, the darkened red mark against his throat, the tousled appearance of his hair and his slight breathlessness.

He certainly looks like he's enjoying himself.

Just get the shirt off, bud, don't worry about being graceful.

It is a simple thought to have, a more difficult one to execute as there is this...need. To impress or otherwise entice Locus. Something of a compulsion, something of habit, and he's glad York opted for a button down for this very reason. Easier to remove slowly than a t-shirt.

Carefully he reaches up to unfasten the first button and it is so different from peeling out of armor- and yet just as intimate. His eyes dip down for a moment as he finesses the next few buttons before they catch on Locus' lips and his hand goes still, mind wild with speculation.

And at that moment, something ticks in the back of Locus's head. Something remembered, and he smirks faintly before lowering his head, lips playing over the back of Delta's fingers. Finding the button is easy, but teasing it open takes an admirable amount of skill. Taylor had been more clever and agile about it, but Locus is slow, purposeful.

Teeth and tongue manage to work one button open, before sinking down to the next, with a brief glance upwards to catch the look on Delta's face.

York and Delta's minds stutter to an absolute halt at the brush of lips over his fingers. Delta's in confusion, York's in tense anticipation. Delta- wasn't aware of this particular trick. Something York recalled doing now and then to impress someone but-

It is incredibly impressive. His breath stutters in his chest, fingers twisting about to stroke Locus' cheek, eyes rapt upon the movement of his lips, tongue.

He can't manage it with near the quickness, but it doesn't need to be. They're not in a rush. And the look on Delta's face is completely worth it, before his focus falls back to peeling those buttons open one by one.

When he's gotten to the last he leans close, nose nuzzling against warm skin just above the waist of his pants, nipping gently once there, as well.

Slow is better. More to watch, more to appreciate, more time to take in all the little details. The flick and curl of Locus' tongue, the brush of his lips, the heat of his eyes- it is a little overwhelming at first. York needs to remind him to breathe, to do or say something to show he's still present. Ultimately he opts for combing Locus' hair back as again, he swallows past a mouth gone dry.

A predator above him, one intimately known. One he cares for. One that cares for him in turn.

The bite has him twitch, a sharp, startled noise snapping out of him before he smooths a thumb against Locus' temple. "Is this sufficient?"

"Delta."

And Locus lifts his head again, eyes playing over him briefly before he presses another kiss to the warm skin of his belly. "You can participate as much or as little as you feel appropriate. We're going at your speed."

His thumb flicks idly over the fastening of his pants as he shifts down a little further, knees digging into the sheets. He pauses briefly before cocking his head.

"If you'd like...I do like it when you run your fingers against my scalp."

"I want-" This. You. The experience, the connection. Simple words and ideas he cannot quite give voice. "to reciprocate."

There.

"To participate as much as possible." That is how York enjoys these moments. Taking pleasure and giving it back tenfold. Losing himself in Locus' enjoyment of his hands and mouth. Delta has none of those skills, none of that experience- but he wants it all the same. At the prompting he smooths his fingers back along Sam's scalp again, licking his bottom lip. "Like this?"

"Mmm."

Locus's eyes shut, head tipping for a moment to appreciate the touch like a cat leaning in to be pet, before he dropped his head low again and began quietly mouthing against the front of his pants. Not quite disrobing just yet, just the idea of what would be done, the heat of his breath trapping behind the tense fabric.

The implication of intent is just as weighty as the actual act- Delta's fingers curl against Sam's scalp as he feels the first sincere stirrings of arousal. A heat coiling in the pit of his gut, a strange tumescence he only has York's experiences to fall back on as normal.

And this is normal. What he'd asked for.

Slowly, that button at the waist of his pants comes undone. When he peels his pants off of him, it's slow, methodical, letting him feel every second of it and understand it for what it was, before shuffling them down towards his knees to be kicked off, if desired.

Meanwhile, a few nuzzling kisses make their way down, over his hip and down the inside of his thigh, before brushing right up against the shaft of his cock. Gentle mouthing and a few tender licks, that's all he gets for the moment, to try and settle himself in it.

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