anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

Do it.

[ He stands ready, keeping an eye on the doorway. Undoubtedly they'll try to blow their way through before too long, and they can't stand here forever making up their minds.

A look is given to Vulpes. ]

...I thought it was you.

Affirmative. Calculating- Estimated tie to completion, sixty seconds.

[ He blinks out of existence after that, humming in the background of Cerberus' armor as he sifts through code.

Vulpes, for his part, looks sheepish. Helmet canted down, fingers tapping against his thighs. ]

I was distracted by the EVA helmet and forgot to tell you. That's on me. Won't happen again.

[ He really doesn't have more to say than that, but there's still a look that burns through the helmet, a chill in his bones he can't quite shake. Just the thought, the actualization of that fear...

Was it worse that all he could process was moving on to the next phase of the plan, not going to his side? No. Had to be practical on the battlefield. Vulpes would have understood. Or been dead or dying and in no position to argue. ]

...You know you'll have everything you need to keep going if I get downed in the field, Cerberus.

[ Much as he wants him to not turn his entire life into the mission, to not become a weapon- as much as he'd like to think he's made enough of an impact to keep that from happening even if he kicks it? He's not that confident. ]

I know.

[ He knows there are plans, contingencies. Life goes on when people die, even if it feels like it shouldn't. But so much of what he's built has its roots in what Taylor has done. Without him...

He turns his head, sharply. He continues to say nothing, seething under the helmet. ]

Calculations complete. Cerberus, I believe we will be able to make the jump.

[ Within reasonable deviations of what would be considered acceptable- which is a pretty damn high standard even for Delta. He's got as much reason as anyone to be weary of experimental tech.

Vulpes shakes off the tension, glancing back at the rumbling of some kind of anti-aircraft artillery getting dragged over. ]

Right. Guess we're doing this.

[ There's an explosion from the door, as apparently they've found a way past the impediment of melted metal. Swiftly, Cerberus reaches out an arm to wind around Vulpes's shoulders, before setting the destination.

It's not so different from the teleportation cubes, the rush, the swirl of nausea, but the familiar pop back into some stable dimension is a welcome one. Cold air. The familiar hum of the engine. ]

I don't wanna do this-

[ He hooks his arms around Cerberus' shoulders anyway, clinging tight, eyes screwed shut, counting through the code with Delta to keep himself from panicking- a quarter of a second before they ping through he detonates the remote EMP in the storage & security rooms, setting off the two mini EMPS in the armor- by the time they're off?

Cerberus and Vulpes are in the shuttle. Vulpes reels, sagging against him while FLISS takes the unspoken command to get the hell out of there. ]

Holy fuck

[ There. They made it. They're alive. That was very nearly unpleasant in a number of ways, but none of them matter in the here and now. No reason to second guess and think about what could have gone wrong.

His hand is surprisingly steady when it reaches up to rip his helmet off, drawing a deep breath. He'll have a moment to process what they've found. Later. Right now...he just needs the quiet. Push what's shaken him back under.

Pointedly not looking at Taylor right now. ]

D, take a break, yeah?

Retiring.

[ The cool green wash of code settles and soothes even as it dims to a low background burr. Something to act as a counterpoint to the manic rabbiting of his pulse, the queasy clench to his gut as he manages to yank his helmet off and breathe.

Objective complete. Not half as clean as he'd like, nowhere near as acceptable as he'd like- but they managed.

Tipped their hand in a bad way, but. ]

Jesus christ.

[ Indeed.

But they were alive. They'd gotten through it all despite the stumbling, and they had something real to show proof of their victory. Something damned useful. And Taylor was alive and he was furious with him and--

Locus finally lifts his gaze to stare at him a moment, pupils dark. Then, a second later, he's crossing the small space between them and seizing him by the hair, pulling him into a sharp kiss.

Alive. Alive. ]

Look, Locus-

[ He owes him an apology- that was a shitty thing to do. He can't believe he forgot to note he was using that particular module. Every other time? he's remembered, it hasn't been a problem. Panic isn't an excuse.

Not that he has a chance to say any of this- there's a hand in his hair and a mouth on his mouth and he doesn't think twice before hooking his arms around Locus' shoulders and biting back.

Fuck.

They did it. And didn't get shot! ]

[ It's unrelenting, that kiss. The weight of it bears him forward, and Taylor back, until he racks him back up against the wall of the shuttle. And even then, there's little pause, a low noise in the back of his throat as his free hand falls to start tearing at his armor, a piece at a time.

No apologies. Not yet. ]

[ Crowded in, full bulk of Locus plus armor plus intent pressing him back? York can't do anything but go. But thud against the wall of the shuttle as the usual tradition hooks in and twists all that panicked, frantic energy into something sleeker, sharper, hotter.

Till he scrambles to pull off Locus' armor in the same way he's being tugged free. ]

[ There's no thought to it, only a need.

This was almost gone. Like so many other things. They'd spoken before about this, how fleeting those good things could be, how neither was sure if this was real. And it had very nearly been snatched away again.

But there's no room to plan on how to do it better, only a bone-deep need to reassure himself that this is still here. He needs to feel that heart pumping under his fingers, feel the swell of breath in his chest, the taste of him on his lips. He is not losing him. He refuses.

Piece after piece clatters to the floor until he's down to leg armor and the undersuit, already peeling open, and he's still kissing him. Lungs burning for need of air but no, it can wait. It can wait a few moments more. ]

[ Like field stripping a rifle his hands find familiar catches, works the mag locks to pop out pauldrons, gauntlets, the segments of his chest plate- anything he could reach. Cutting away bit by bit, whittling Cerberus down to the thin neoprene titanium weave suit that acts as a bloodless membrane between the weapon and Locus.

Partners.

His partner and there's a coil of something aching and possessive he can't quite shake as he worms his way out of the undersuit- skids a hand down to finish stripping himself first. Can't see with his eyes closed, can't hear over the thundering of blood in his ears, can't breathe- and he doesn't want to. It's crushing an grounding rather than cloying and claustrophobic- because he knows this hungry heat. ]

[ Once he's out of the suit completely, then Locus does break the kiss. There's barely any green left to see in those eyes, dark and heavy and still tense with anger, the fingers in his hair still rigid and unyielding.

And then York is spun about to face the wall of the shuttle, up against cold steel. Locus's teeth find the crook of his shoulder, biting down hard enough to bruise, as his hands slide down the length of his back. The briefest of pauses as he yanks off his gloves, and then there's just heat, warmth, the callous catch of his palms as he grips his hips, squeezes at his ass.

Then hauls back and smacks, hard. ]

[ Dazed, he needs to take a moment to breathe. Pant, really, shuddering in Locus' grip but far too wired to begin to fall. ]

Locus-

[ Okay, words aren't gonna be a thing, he can do that. His hands skid against the wall as he braces himself, biting down on his arm to muffle the groan teeth in his shoulder prompt. Less restrained, less measured, closer to the first time on the mats than anything else and while he doesn't mind that-

The sharp crack of Locus' hand without so much as a 'ready go' has Taylor attempting to twist away and yelping. ]

Fuck- talk to me, man!

[ But there's nowhere to squirm to. Locus keeps him there, walled up by the sheer weight and size of him, a hand on the back of his head...

Not the nape of his neck, though. Not even now. He's present, he's aware. And he's leaning in to catch teeth at the edge of his ear. ]

Do you know what it felt like, watching you fall?

[ The words are heavy, thick with things he won't say, can't say, but it's the closet approximation he can get to why. His palm slides across the cheek he caught him on, tracing after the warmth that follows in the wake of the initial sting. ]

Thinking I was too late?

[ Oh.

Well. Shit. Looks like a verbal apology's not gonna cut it. Now that he knows where this is coming from, now that he gets it? Some of the frantic tension bleeds out of Taylor. That jackrabbit, caught prey pitch of his breathing slows into something sustainable. Fight and flight eases off. ]

Fucking awful.

[ Okay. This is- well it's gonna be a ride, but it's ok. ]

I'm sorry.

[ There's a stretch of time long enough for Locus to take a breath, to turn his head, nose pressing into the soft short-clipped stands of his hair, just behind his ear. ]

...I know.

[ And then that hand comes down, smartly smacking across the other cheek. Not as hard as can hit, but it's not gentle. It's meant to sting, to pull his attention entirely. ]

[ Things they don't say for so many reasons. Things they can't say buried under hands and teeth and sweetly bruised skin. ]

Go ahead.

[ He's on for the ride, now, head dipping low, forehead pressed to his forearms as Locus' hand comes down and snaps a jolt right through him. One, he counts in the back of his head. Who knows how many he's got coming. ]

[ It's not a matter of counting, not a method. Nothing precise or ordered. It's something else, instinct, feeling this out, what he should have done at the start of all this.

Yet it's brought him here. Given him this very large, very defined chink in his armor. So when that vulnerability is threatened, he does the only thing he knows how to do. ]

They won't have you.

[ The words burr against his skin before the third strike lands, the smack echoing against the shuttle walls. ]

I won't let them.

[ Taylor sucks in a sharp breath, skin stinging against the blow. Hard to feel like he's outside his own skin, hard to worry about how fucking easy it would've been for the teleporter to fuck them up.

How close he'd actually been to taking that bullet to the throat. Locus doesn't need to know that.

He'd seen more than enough from the vents as is. ]

I know.

Do you know why?

[ Smack! The next blow snaps against his skin, starting to burn under his touch, undoubtedly a very familiar shade of red, or at least growing to that point. There's a pause then between the strikes, fingers kneading over his skin, nails catching and dragging in long, slow stripes down to the edge of his thighs. ]

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