anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

[ 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. ]

Nngh-

[ Hard enough that he rocks with it, leaning into the cold metal wall of the shuttle. Fucking against the bulkhead- number 34. He's revised the list a couple of times but, uh, damn. Every welt, every red sting has his shoulders unknotting, his breath getting slower, deeper, more even.

Taylor licks his lips. Swallows. ]

Because I'm yours?

[ That's it, isn't it? That's the answer. He's his partner, his weakness, his...whatever this is. His. That just slips in and knots itself tight around every frayed wire that's gotten the better of him tonight, and with a snarl he presses in, forgoes the next blow for gripping his hip tight, pulling Taylor back into him with a grind of his hips, a heavy breath against his throat. ]

Say it again.

[ If he weren't rock fucking hard and half desperate already, three words and one grind has him there in a fucking heartbeat. Taylor groans as he tries to shift his hips into that grind. Find some proper friction, get the heated length of Locus' cock rubbing somewhere it'd do him some good. ]

Yours. [ Low, almost pained. ] I'm yours.

[ Not a question this time. The words spill off his lips and Locus breathes deep, eyes sliding shut as his hips give another sharp, possessive little grind. But Taylor is winding back against him, he knows, he feels that little tug too, surely. The pull those words have, the realization knotted up in them. ]

Yes. You are.

[ Locus draws back, just enough, another swat landing across reddening skin. ]

[ Later, when he's not in the doghouse, he'll flip this on Locus. But he's still in the doghouse, still holding on tight for the ride while trying to tamp down on a niggling, hopeful thought. This is something different. A whole new pattern to sort out with its own rules and expectations and obligations. Doesn't make it any less grounding to hear the certainty in Locus' voice. ]

Bite me.

[ He cranes his head to the side to offer his throat, body a tense arc pinned between Locus' bulk and the steel wall. ]

[ Without hesitation, Locus takes the offer, and teeth dig bluntly into the meat of his throat. This is connected to what's being felt out here, the claim being laid, so he's certain to dig in hard enough to leave a mark that will last for days.

All with a low noise caught in the back of his throat, a needful, hungry sound. ]

[ Taylor can feel the bruise blooming immediately, something that'll ache like a bitch anytime he turns his head. It's perfect. It throbs in a direct line to his cock, twisting a groan out of him to match Locus'. ]

Tell me what you want.

[ One hand skids free of the all, twisting up and back to grip Locus' neck, holding him against bruised skin. ]

What do you need, Locus?

You.

[ The word is easy to find. The descriptors that need to follow, less so. But he knows, knows what he needs from him. His hands lift, fingers digging in along the lines of his ribcage and drawing back in a long, curving line of raised pink. ]

I want under your skin. I want to push you up against this wall. Open you up with my fingers.

[ The lubricant's somewhere nearby, he knows it. One of the little cabinets or containers. His teeth nip at Taylor's earlobe again. ]

I want your legs wrapped around me while I take you, and I want to hear you scream when I make you come. That's what I want.

Fuck-

[ Technically not a single vulgar word spoken- Locus' longstanding habit of never swearing has, on occasion, had Taylor pull back a little on his own. But like this? SOmehow it makes everything that much hotter. It's unfair.

Lube, where's the lube- ]

What are you waiting for?

[ That's an A+ plan in his book, he is most definitely in favor of getting cracked open and wrecked against the bulkhead. This isn't a situation where he's gonna slip down in to that soft edged, distant space. He''s too grounded, too wound up in wanting to be here for Locus. That makes it better. ]

I'm not done with you yet.

[ He'll get all that. In fact, Taylor had better enjoy the breaths between he's still able to take.

And Locus's hand flies, cracking across his cheek once again, this time almost in reprimand for trying to skip ahead, to push past what Locus already has in mind. But, in the very same instant, those teeth rake over that fresh blush of red starting to blossom across his throat. ]

You said you were sorry. I didn't say I forgave you.

Oh?

[ He's got no leg to stand on, here. No room for cheek or sarcasm or any kind of sass but- shit happens in the field. He's sorry. It's awful, he feels bad, but part of him remains uncharacteristically frustrated. Normally he accepts his fuckups with grace, leans back into blows given- drops easily, gratefully. But this time-

They won.

They completed the mission, he scraped by the skin of his teeth in more ways than he'd care to think. So he pushes back, digs his nails in against Locus' scalp. Mouths off. ]

What, do you want me to beg for it?

Do you really think begging would move me?

[ Smack!

It's entirely possible that they'll continue until he feels Taylor's had enough, until he's riding that thin line of too much and not enough. But the digging of nails doesn't do anything to convince him that he's through, no.

Those teeth nip sharper at his throat, before his hand comes down again, the burn of it soaking through his palm, radiating up his arm in sharp tingles. He knows he has to be feeling it, too. ]

Depends-

[ Harder to keep his voice even, impossible to bite back the gasp that hit twists out of him. Fire under his skin- and isn't that exactly where Locus said he'd wanted to be? Inside his skin? Taylor's voice dips low and rough as he jerks through the next bite, the next scrape of Locus' palm. ]

I can beg real pretty, I hear.

[ Probably toeing a line, there. Probably pretty damn stupid to bring up to the guy that just bit a bruise and growled mine into his skin like it would brand the fact into his bones that he'd fucked around before he'd met him. Locus has...impressive issues with possessiveness. Poking at them to wind him up? Will either end really well or poorly. But if it gets him more of that desperate growling, that sharp crack of Locus' hand?

He'll poke. ]

[ Consider him poked. Taylor gets the growl he's looking for, seconds before Locus's fingers slide to curl around the base of his throat, tugging his head back, fingertips digging into that bruise. ]

I am not them.

[ Fury kindled, the burn in his chest growing thicker and heavier, Locus draws his hand back again. The snap is sharper this time, catching at an angle, less blunt, fully intending on getting a yelp out of him if he can. ]

You'll have to try harder.

[ Signs point to things ending well. Awesome. ]

Ngh-

[ Taylor swallows as his head tips back, scrambling for whatever part two of this plan was. He did have a part two, right? Aside from jerking sharply at the next hit and yelling, rocking back on his heels just as hard for the next. Glutton for punishment, that's him. ]

No, you're not- [ Christ. ] You're better. None of them ever hurt me like you do, fuck me like you do-

[ There it is again, the thought that someone else has hurt him, has fucked him, that he's lain out beneath them the way he does for him, trusting and needy and saying all these pretty words...

Again, his teeth find purchase in Taylor's skin, this time along the slope of his shoulder. Can't bite his throat, too busy squeezing those fingers down, digging in, grinding his hips in against too-warm skin, and oh. It's going to be sweet when he finally does take him. He's going to get that scream he wants this time, no question. ]

I'm not-

[ Theirs he starts to say, his lips shape the word as those teeth come down hard and he's locked tight against the overwhelming heat of Locus' body. Held down, cracked open, eyes half lidded and hazy as he shouts at the ceiling. Under Locus' fingers his pulse is jackrabbit fast, breath a shuddering scrape as he tries to find his train of thought. ]

Theirs. I'm not- I'm not theirs. I'm yours- Just yours, only yours-

[ The next blow doesn't come. Instead he shifts back, far enough to reach for the hiding place for the lubricant, as he recalls from their last mission. He doesn't let go of York's throat, however. ]

They don't matter.

[ And that goes for every last 'they' in the galaxy as far as he's concerned. When he's found what he needs, he returns, dragging his teeth against the new mark. ]

This is for us. Just us.

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