anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

Strange. There's no hesitation at all, not a second thought before he lets his head fall back, a small smile curved on his lips as he stares up at Delta from under heavy lids. "If you'd like."

Obviously if York had reservations about the idea, he'd say something right about now. Felix had come with conditions, but with Delta? He doubts the same restrictions stand.

"York is alright with it. We discussed my list of things I wished to try before he handed over control. His opinion is as long as you were alright and consented, he would as well." There is a trust here that goes beyond trusting Locus with Delta.

York is trusting Delta with Locus.

Locus hums. "Then I don't see any reason why not."

He's curious, he admits, what sort of lover Delta would choose to be, given free rein. He's just now learned exactly how it can feel, and doubtless he's taken the lesson to heart.

"This, though..." He leans down to press his lips against Locus' pulse. "This is comfortable and I am not inclined to move away just yet."

It's affirming, this affection, this embrace. "I do wonder if I will not feel more...or rather if I will not feel less delicate if I am the one doing the taking."

"Delicate?"

While acknowledging the request to stay, at least for a moment, he's not letting that one drift by without commentary. There's a small quirk of his lips, even if he doesn't stop that idle petting, nor the slow nuzzling to help ease them both down again.

"So I make you feel delicate."

"I do not know how Taylor feels any other way. You are..." He smooths a hand down Locus' chest, eyes half closed. Languid. "Powerful. Massive. Broad and strong and- the term he would use is 'brick shithouse.' By comparison we are..."

Wirey. Well muscled but damn near lithe.

"I see."

He has a fair point. By work of nature alone, few can stand as a physical peer to him. But it's not a question of mere strength, and he leans close enough to murmur low against Delta's ear.

"And if someone that powerful were to do as you say, what would that make you?"

"Fortunate." A shiver ripples down Delta's spine, skin flushing pink in short order for the rumble and implication of Locus' voice. What else would he be, to have Locus obey? To have him serve and serve gladly. "That I would be worthy of that trust."

He turns his head enough to brush his lips against Locus' jaw, hands shifting from the gradual, soothing passes of before to something more exploratory. There's so much of him to touch, so much of him to experience- and Delta wishes to experience all of it. Every inch, every warm, angled cant and shift of smooth bellied muscle.

It is his to explore.

Locus allows him to ply him open by degrees, lets him feel and taste his way inside, all while a pleased rumble catches in the back of his throat. It's Power, Delta. To have that sort of sway over the powerful makes you powerful, not delicate at all.

Calloused fingers span over Delta's sides, over familiar scars and dips in muscle, but the movement is uniquely Delta's. Curious and bright and birdlike, and so terribly fitting.

What starts as a calculated pattern meant to cover as much in as much detail as possible deviates as this or that catches Delta's interest. The rough skin of scar tissue along his ribs, the wiry hair under his navel- the flex and shift of tendon and muscle where leg meets hip before a curious nudge from York has his hand sliding up, palm resting flat against Locus' pectoral, thumb swiping idly back and forth across his nipple.

The smooth assurance of York's movements isn't present. Varying pressure, light, flitting touches until he becomes more settled and confident that he is allowed this, that Locus truly means to give him leave- and even then it is more fingertips and nails than palm and a full bodied lean.

He is patient. And Delta is still finding his feet, in an almost literal sense.

It's not the quick stirring of passion that comes from York, where they clash and mesh and find ways to draw that heat from one another. But that does not make it unpleasurable. His eyelids lower lazily as he lets Delta do as he pleases, while his own hands slide up his back, smooth over the curve of a shoulder blade or the dip of his spine. Just steady, grounding pressure and touch as he finds his way.

And occasionally, when he strikes upon a tender spot, when his fingers pluck or nails catch somewhere sensitive, he earns a softly pleased noise in response.

York, when finding such spots, hovers and hounds, applying the same pressure over and over as though to reassert that it's pleasurable. Delta merely pauses in his exploration for a moment, head tilting to one side curiously, and continues to seek out more of these patches of skin. Only after he is fairly confident he's uncovered the bulk of what is to be found on Locus' torso does he revisit them with precisely the same pressure as prompted the initial sound.

Building a new equation out of the results- this and this with such pressure equals the same, or more? Or less? More is the goal and gradually he realizes there are more points of stimuli to explore than he has limbs and he bends to the task with his mouth, lapping and teasing Locus' nipples while his hands work along ribs and hips and inner thighs, working to understand what pleases Locus on his own rather than pulling on York's memory.

Slower to start, but more precise overall. Locus's eyes roll shut as Delta sets tongue and lips to a nipple, the sharp tingle that follows sinking deep and skittering under his skin, connecting to each point he can feel his fingers trailing. Like the whole thing is connected somehow, in a way that would make sense to an AI, naturally.

His purpose is not to follow that pattern or understand it. Instead, he reacts to it. His thighs shift and spread slowly as his cock begins to stir, back rolling slow against the sheets as he hums his pleasure.

Another point of stimuli, the most obvious- and Delta doesn't discount it. One hand skims down to trail feather light fingers along the underside. Feeling out the shape of him, the thing that worked him open and broke him so sweetly not that long ago. Human bodies are a wonder to fit even in not terribly intuitive configurations.

He works his way down, none of York's skill but far more precise and quietly enthused as teeth and lips and tongue drag along every point he'd sought out with his fingers, the pattern a long line of increasing enjoyment, softest to loudest, of what made Locus react before he presses a perfectly chaste kiss to the head of his cock. He's still- sorting out how to get all of that in his mouth.

He's really considering it, isn't he? Locus finally pushes himself upward, just enough to brace on his elbows, before a hand curls at the back of Delta's neck to give him pause.

"Towel. Should be a clean one we can wet nearby."

Point of consideration, especially since this is Delta's first time through and...maybe just going for it isn't necessarily the best option. He wants him to enjoy it, the way he did. The way Taylor always seems to.

"Of course." Right. He leans over the side of the bed and feels around, snagging the damp towel York had set down earlier 'just in case'. A lot of the room is set up for 'just in case' so they might take care of what needs doing without having to leave one another or become anxious.

York is, in his own words, a good bro.

"What do you enjoy most when it comes to fellatio?" Perfectly acceptable point of conversation while cleaning off Locus' cock, right? right.

It's as reasonable a time as ever. Locus hums quietly in thought, eyes sliding shut for a moment, and not simply just to feel the swipe of the towel, the strange texture of fabric with the pressure of fingers behind it.

"Taylor is able to take me in completely, but that isn't something I would recommend for your first attempt," he replies dryly. "But it is most enjoyable with some edge to it. Some scraping of teeth, in small amounts. Good, firm pressure. Allow yourself to make some noise, as well."

"Most of the nerve endings tend to be in the first few inches." Or at least that is what he'd read. Careful as he can be without discounting the possibility of making this act somewhat arousing in and of itself, Delta cleans the remainder of lube from Locus with a faint hum. Noise. He will...do his best.

Wet cloth set aside he leans in, hand curled firmly around the base, and laps at the head with a light flick of his tongue, guaging texture and flavor.

That first wet glide, and Locus's fingers tighten, curling inward with a slight moan welling up. It was tentative, light, but still prickled at his senses, a shiver gliding up the curve of his back.

Delta's curiosity, his impulse to explore, might serve well here.

If this- then a soft moan. But how did Taylor earn those full, shuddering rasps of breath when he was down? Tapping into memories other than muscle is apparently allowed and he tries applying his teeth gently. Dragging them along the underside as he becomes accustomed to the sensation of this velvety hot skin against his lips.

That hypersensitivity has returned- as well as a heightened awareness of scent. Tangy, salty, musky-

Familiar and male and comforting.

Oh, and instantly Locus's fingers curled tight, jaw snapping shut with a muted sound at the drag of teeth. A little advanced for a beginner, but he's not doing badly. It simply feels, intensely. That scrape of teeth against skin feels like it's dragging sharp across every nerve ending he has, and for a moment? His eyelids slide shut.

"Tongue...after teeth. Good rule." He manages to growl that out, somehow.

The dart of Delta's tongue afterward is immediate and all but apologetic- the next slow pass of mouth and breath gentle by comparison. Tongue after teeth, and teeth at irregular intervals. Whether it's a matter of pain or too much-

He'll learn. Right now he's focused on smoothing the hurt away with wide, laving licks, growing more and more accustomed to Locus' taste.

Following the hurt and intensity with something soothing is usually a good rule to learn, and Delta is a quick study. He seems to pick right up on what he needs to do, how to soothe those suddenly keen nerves, and Locus lets out a low breath as his thighs shiver ever so slightly.

"Good. Very good..."

Keeping up the praise is important. He should know when he's doing well, what to concentrate on or repeat. It's the best kind of lesson to teach, he thinks absently.

Now, he thinks, would be an opportune time to attempt the drag of his teeth again the proper way. Delta sets his teeth against the skin just under the head of Locus' cock and drags light and slow downward- immediately following it with a long swipe of his tongue over the same skin followed by a pointed flick along the slit. That was enjoyable to York, there are many nerves in that skin-

And Locus is saying he's doing well. The thrum of his pulse under his skin, the smell of him, the thick rumbling to his voice? All point to sincere enjoyment.

He thinks correctly.

Locus's back arches with a rough gasping sound, eyes rolling shut as he shudders and hums, pleased. Delta gets fingers curling in, dragging against his scalp in reward, as his cock gives a little twitch.

No movement wasted. Efficient, picking up on everything he's learned thus far. He should expect nothing less.

"Delta." It comes out in a rumble in the back of his throat as he shifts lazily, clearly enjoying this particular lesson.

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