anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

"Tell me how it feels to you."

This is the same little AI that was talking about urethral penetration and fisting, getting so delicately wound up by a tongue on his cock. Of course, overestimating oneself isn't a sin, and he wants to tailor this to Delta's comfort level.

There's a long, purposeful nuzzle up the length of his dick before he laps at the tip, teasing just along the slit before nosing back down again, breathing warmly against his balls. Safe to say he's learned a few things about teasing from Taylor.

"Intense-" He tries to slow his breathing, to settle. To not let something so small overwhelm him but it is. Difficult. The flick of Locus' tongue along the head, where the highest concentration of nerves rest, doesn't help in the slightest. York doing what he often offers when their positions are swapped-

That helps. "Good. Very good."

He lacks the adequate vocabulary but the low, somewhat awed tone has to convey his meaning all the same.

Edited 2016-12-12 02:03 (UTC)

"We can continue this way, until you come."

Which would be satisfying all on its own, and not necessarily the end of anything they chose to do. But there would be a limit, eventually, and he doesn't want to wear him out too early.

Those gray-green eyes flicker upwards.

"Or I can hold you off, and we can pursue something else. You mentioned penetration, before."

The concept holds significant appeal- all the more so due to York's preoccupation with the rarity of the gesture. But there's more. His body can only stand so much, York can handle multiple orgasms over the course of an evening without his mind becoming jelly and Delta-

Is not so certain of his own ability to withstand the sensations.

"I want-" Always that hesitation, that moment of making certain he is permitted to want something, to express that desire. "To pursue more. This is- it is pleasant and pleasing but-"

Insufficient? "Not what I had in mind."

"I understand." It's not insulting, at the very least, and he did ask for a reason. Still, he leans close to let his teeth scrape ever so faintly against the skin, before humming to himself.

"However, I think it might help with what we're wanting..."

A glance up provided the location of the lubricant, allowing him to slick up his fingers while he eyes Delta's cock with a thoughtful tilt of his head. Just a little time to preoccupy him, to get him to loose up. The dual sensations tended to help.

With another glance upwards he sinks down, wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, letting his tongue move in slow, warm strokes over the tip. And a second later, the warm tip of a finger strokes against the cleft of his ass.

Delta-in-York's eye flares a bright green, the sudden surge of stimulation crackling through him like nothing he's ever experienced before-

Backed with an undercurrent of pure protective fondness he cannot quite articulate. Pride? Something of the sort. He swallows and slides a hand down to continue combing his fingers through Locus' hair, thighs tipping apart obligingly. As an AI he has no shame about the body he wears, York is remarkably well put together in his humble opinion, adequately attractive and, apparently, sensitive.

Or perhaps that is simply him. Breathing settles in slow and deep, York slipping forward enough to keep D from choking, to let him enjoy how it feels- "He is-"

Delta starts, hitches his hips slightly to rock experimentally down against Locus' fingers. "Overwhelmed with fond appreciation for you right now."

The care he is taking. The consideration. "I find it difficult to differentiate from my own sentiments."

"The feeling is mutual," Locus rumbles, pulling back just enough to speak, lips spit-slick and glossy in the light. He doesn't waste much time on words, however, and spends his time instead on lapping at the head of his cock, swirling his tongue, flicking up against the underside of the head, all while those slick fingers tease against that tight hole.

Then, gradually, he lets one finger slip inside, just to the second knuckle. Just enough to let Delta feel the weight of it, the pressure, the sensation of that pad stroking him from the inside.

His eyes flicker up a moment later, gray-green and clear, watching the sensations play across Delta's face -- across York's face, too, because he's still there, still feeling this too, and it's true. That fond warmth curls tight in his chest, every bit as strong.

He'll take care of them both. Always.

York is correct: the visual is just as enthralling and stimulating as the sensation, his habit of looking away to make the moment last longer often baffled Delta but now? He understands quite well the urge. But the quiet, calm, mildly possessive bent insists he continue two watch. To analyze every moment of this experience, even if it drives him to distraction.

Delta's breath stutters out in a slow shudder, hips giving in to habit, instinct, and York's inherent muscle memory. Rolling back against that finger to show he wants it. Wants this. The insertion is strange and weighty and hot and they can take more. So much more. Quiet awe settles in behind his eyes partly from Delta but mostly from York. All this care, all this affection, and yeah letting your best friend fuck your whatever is weird but-

They're not normal. Don't need to be. "Locus-"

Low, rasped, losing the usual measured cadence as he swallows. "Please?"

It sounds like a question, sounds like a plea. It could mean any number of things, but he's grown better at intuiting meaning. York's taught him how, the things to look for, ways to empathize and sense what people want. Even an AI can be plain enough in its meaning.

So he pulls back again, nuzzling his cheek briefly against damp skin before giving a hum of acknowledgement. "I'm going to work up to three. If you want more fingers after that, I'll give them to you. But..."

And that finger flutters, before easing back, just enough to press a second in against it. Testing just how well Delta's learned to relax, gauging the tension in his body before plying him open further.

"If you'd rather integrate, we can do that first. It's up to you."

It's so far from normal, everything about this. But nothing since the day he and York met has been anything close to normal. Delta is damn near a part of him, as much as he is his own person as well, and all three of them want this. Not just fucking, but a full physical exploration of that care, that desire to make things good.

Just be good to me, he'd said, months ago. A lesson taken well to heart.

A goal, then, presented with an almost dizzying weight of possibility. They've done it before, Delta could run the numbers on the give and flex of a human body around a human hand and come up with an adequate length of preparation required for avoiding harm to the nanosecond- but he couldn't quite conceptualize how it would feel. One finger, one mouth has him driven to distraction, the equations York throws him to keep him grounded fuzzy and indistinct in the face of this potential joining.

Two and he recalls enough to relax. To angle his hips with York's shamelessness and none of his grace, none of his experience to do anything more than lay there and wait for what he is given. A million little sensations from the sheets against his back, the strands of Locus' hair in his fingers, every nerve crackling in individual bliss at that weight and pressure and oh- breathing. He needs to breathe.

Does, eventually, with a shuddering twist of a moan. "I want-"

To want. To have. To feel and here he is being given that. Allowed to want, given so he can possess this for even a moment and feeling-

Feeling so much it threatens to overwhelm him for a moment, the sentiment and sensation alike. His hands slide forward to cradles Locus' face gently, his voice warm and thick with more than desire. "You. I want you."

When he says that to Taylor, it generally means he's at a loss. He wants what comes, wants more, and cannot articulate more than that. It might be different for Delta, but it can't be that different.

Not with the look reflected in the green of his eyes. Locus's expression eases, warms in turn, before catching the corner of Delta's mouth in a kiss.

"Spread your legs a little more for me. There's something I want to show you," he rumbles, and when Delta obliges him, he slips those finger deeper and curls. He knows where that little bundle of nerves rests, it's just a matter of lighting it up, and watching Delta feel all of it in the process.

Little pieces of what's to come, to prepare him for the whole.

he leans into the kiss easily, fingers carding through Locus' hair to hold him there for a moment more. Infinite variations on a singular theme and Delta finds he wants to attempt all of them from slow and easy to fierce and biting, so long as it is done with Locus. Warmth in his chest that drops like a stone to the pit of his stomach at so simple a phrase- but he does as he's told.

Tips his thighs apart, one foot braced against the mattress, one settling to rest his heel against Locus' thigh for a further point of contact and-

Light, heat, sensation-

Even knowing how it feels in the abstract and knowing it's coming his back bows as his head falls back, a sharper, sweeter cry tumbling from his lips as the world goes bright and distant- lean thighs trembling on either side of Locus' hips, nails curled in to dig at his scalp.

For someone who's still unused to human sensation, it can be a bit much, he's certain. But Delta carries himself -- and York -- beautifully. Familiar touches in the framing, certainly, but the expression is uniquely Delta's.

"That...is what I'm going to give to you."

Those fingers withdraw slow, letting him feel the tight tug, before sliding inward again with precision, nudging just up against that little nub once more and savoring the look on his face.

"Again and again."

He eases back, just long enough for him to get breath in him again, gray-green eyes raking over him in full before letting him sample that unique sensation yet again. As promised.

"...until you come apart for me."

Two fingers. That was two fingers- how could he possibly hope to take a hand? To have this so intensely he feels it in his teeth? Delta loses a little time trying to work out how much he could take as opposed to how much he wants to take before he's jarred out of it by another brush as sweet and intent as the last.

Lips slack, brow furrowed, eye dark and locked on to Locus' face- rapture in it's most sincere form. No point of reference to lessen the sensation, no desire to lessen the weight of sentiment.

This is his, for now, and that possessive curl in York's heart has an answering echo in Delta's processes. "Please."

Yes, please more, every inch of his body tipping up, legs sliding as far apart as he can manage comfortably to invite Locus in. "I want you. I want this. Please-"

"How does it feel?"

The sensation. The wanting, the desire. Let him worry about that rather than the logistics. Locus has that well enough in hand -- no pun intended -- that he needn't concern himself. Already he's spread himself far enough for a third finger to have relatively little issue in easing in and now, rather than just the spike of sensation, there's also that pressure. That feeling of fullness multiplied.

Academic curiosity is one thing. What Delta feels now is much more important, and while Locus has grown more adept at guessing? He'd rather leave none of this to chance.

"Full-" And that is something he has never experienced in any capacity. Too much data doesn't give him this slow, boneless molasses sensation. Too much anything doesn't register, he merely handles it as needed but now? Now it isn't too much- it's just enough. It's perfect and he rolls his head forward enough to watch with wide eye'd curiosity down past his leaking erection (A curious sensation in and of itself) to where Locus' wrist flexes and works between his thighs.

"Connected. Fragile? I- this is a vulnerable position." And yet he doesn't think twice about Locus being above him. "Protected. Certain, fond."

His throat clicks as he swallows, eye sliding back up to Locus'. "Immeasurably fond."

"Immeasurably? High praise."

Locus chuckles, bending his head lower to press his mouth to the hollow of Delta's throat, momentarily blocking the view before rising back once more. In, out, in again work those slick digits, until he can feel an ease to the motion. It won't last, there's a world of difference between three fingers and a cock, but they'll take it slow as need be.

'Protected.' He is surely that.

There's a soft hum as he eases his hand free, thumb smoothing over the slick muscle in a parting gesture, before reaching for himself. "If it becomes too much, or if it hurts, you will tell me."

Command. Not a request. But it is gently spoken, all the same.

"Some things cannot be so neatly described in numbers." Such as this hook in his chest that belongs to York, something that tangles them both to Locus. The flutter of his pulse when he leans close enough to kiss him, that certainty above all else. There are no equations for these variables, merely the knowledge that this exists beyond calculating.

And for the first time in his existence- Delta is alright with that.

Such a firm line of command has him shivering- but nodding in agreement all the same. "Of course."

Unlike York- Delta can be and is patient. No less greedy but- their integration is inevitable. He knows it is coming, that it is something he will have, and makes no move to hurry Locus- somewhat fascinated by the play of those slick fingers over Locus' cock.

He pays relatively little attention to himself, in contrast. It is not a show, he does not know how to perform the way Taylor does, but his eyes flick up to meet Delta's. He watches him, watching him, like a feedback of whateve voyueristic pleasure he recieves in seeing those broad fingers working over dark, slick skin.

And then he's shifting upwards, one arm reaching for Delta's leg and hoisting it higher, enough nearly to have the back of his knee resting against his shoulder. Locus leans close, that curtain of dark hair falling over his shoulder as he braces against the bed, still conscious of the body beneath him and wanting to keep every ounce of his focus there.

Be good to him.

Shifting his hips, he brings the slick head of his cock across that tight hole, just rubbing at first before pushing. Testing the give. Letting him adjust to that first taste of just how different this is going to feel, in comparison.

It'd be easy to let York's muscle memory take it from here- but Delta is too enraptured, too present to let his body do anything but what Locus prompts and what he needs to be comfortable. Arching enough to settle against the sheets, hands sliding down to comb through that dark hair and- it's a singular point of fascination for York. Delta can understand the appeal. It serves no purpose, the long hair, save that of aesthetics.

"He's right-" He manages before that first glide slides along hypersensitive skin and steals most of his breath, a faint tremor rolling up his spine. Soon. Soon he'll have Locus, he'll experience that integration sincerely-

Delta swallows and manages in a softer, awed voice. "It does make you pretty." And powerful. And- like this, hanging enough to block some of the light? Makes the moment more intimate.

Locus gives a quiet huff, even as he finds himself tipping his head into the touch. 'Pretty' is not something to be proud of, but it's become a common enough endearment from York that he's learned not to mind it. Now, Delta's going to start in on it too?

"I thought the symmetry of my features was more to your liking," he replies with an arched brow, as his hips rock slowly. It's gentle as it can be, but finally the head of his cock catches, pushes, sinks a little deeper and spreads him a little further.

Then, it's just a matter of easing in, an inch at a time, letting him feel the progressive expansion, the heat, the friction and the slide as tight muscle works to accommodate him.

"Breathe for me. Nice and deep."

"The juxtaposition of softness with the strong angles of your bone structure-" It's difficult to continue this line of conversation while he's being rocked into. Go figure. So many nerves alight and crackling, so much of him drawn tight and shivering as he's given this and oh-

Oh-

The spark of green in York's eye crackles but Delta remains as he is, rooted deeply in York's nervous system. This is- he feels- he can't-

Locus bids it and he breathes past where air had been caught in his throat, coiling out of him like so many strands of green code in a drawn out sigh. Good. It's. Good. "Makes it. Appealing- oh."

Locus finds his lips creasing into a smile as Delta stutters and falters, so wrapped up in the new sensations slamming through him. One hand smooths against his hip, a reassurance, before he dips his head further and briefly catches the AI by the lips. It's warm, slow, something to anchor him while he eases in further...until at last he's buried to the hilt.

"Good."

His forehead presses against Delta's as he lets out a slow, shuddering breath of his own. Doesn't matter how many time he takes him, it still feels incredible. These bodies know how to fit around each other by now, but Delta's responses are new on the whole, and utterly distracting.

"Just move when you feel you are able. When you want more." Another kiss, this one lower against his jaw.

"Oh-" Words. He should- words. York can speak easily and gladly to great vulgar extent while buried or penetrated but all Delta can manage is that single syllable. Less than that, even, when more and more eases in slow and inevitable like the press of his chip into York's implant. Like the many iterations required to find the proper solution and this- this is it. The balanced equation.

The key to his body's encryption, the reason for the warmth in his chest that doesn't belong entirely to York. As much as he is able to feel this fondness, this affection? It coils and curls and settles in alongside everything else of him that had been broken. Forms something new.

He is, after all, meant to learn. Adapt. Grow.

With shakey breaths he clings to Locus, lips working in senseless desperation for a little more of that grounding contact. "I feel-"

A beat- and Locus knows how he was made. Knows what he is, what he'd gone through.

"Whole."

A singular feeling for a broken AI fragment to feel. There's no need to rush past that feeling, letting Delta drink it in, because Locus remembers the first time having sex with York gave him that feeling. When the edges filled in, and the ragged, broken bits smoothed over, and he felt new. Lacking nothing in the world.

"That...that is what this gives us. You asked me once, if you remember." Rather than move, Locus shifts his grip to help keep Delta pressed flush against him, another kiss pressed lower along his throat.

"That is what it is to be with someone you care for. What I feel, too."

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