anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

[ No time to breathe, no relief, Locus just pushing and pushing and pushing in a tight-raw scrape over tightly wound nerves. Any other time it'd be too much too soon but it skates along the perfect edge of rough and attentive, the burn coiling tight in the pit of Taylor's stomach as his legs give out after a particularly vicious jab. ]

Jesus fuck- Locus!

[ He clings. Claws at the wall and lets himself fall back on his hand, fall against his body, spine twisting with every sinuous attempt to get more, chasing that manic edge. ]

[ He has him. He has him, and the grip on his throat shifts down to rest against his chest, keeping him pressed back and pinned in place as Locus noses against his ear. Drinks in that growing, coiling tension with satisfaction.

No one hurts me the way you do.

He slows only when introducing a second finger, forgoing the relentless thrust for that slow stretch, the burn that follows in its wake, giving Taylor just enough time to adjust to the additional thickness before starting to build that pace anew. ]

[ Taylor coughs once he's able to breathe properly and it's still not enough, frantic, shallow gasps don't help fill his lungs but he can't fucking manage anything deeper with every sharp grind up and in like Locus is trying to lift him off his toes. It's good. It hurts. It hurts in a way he hasn't wanted in forever.

Hasn't needed in just as long. ]

Please please please please please please-

[ When he can think straight he'll beg properly, use more than just a broken word against that slow, all consuming burn. ]

[ It's the only word he needs.

Locus has forgone the use of words, falling silent again. Taylor had wanted him to talk, needed that reassurance, that grounding, but they were on the same page now. Taylor keened and twisted and Locus pounded those fingers into him, feeling the warmth of still-red skin against his knuckles when he hit deep.

He let his eyes fall shut, turned his head into the crook of Taylor's throat, not biting, but holding him fast. Breathing in the scent of his skin, his fingers poised and digging in just so over the frantic beating of his heart.

Again, that pace only slowed when the addition of another finger came, and Taylor was stretched that much wider around them. Still so tight, tight enough that those shivers could be felt in brief, quivering clenches. Soon. ]

[ Every idle brush of his hand or press of knuckle- any scrap of skin that skates along the hypersensitive, too warm redness of his ass strikes a thunderous chord. Snags in deep at the base of his spine and twists until it's all he can feel. The details swarm and overwhelm and there's a wash of cool concerned green that has Taylor shaking his head.

He's fine, this is fine, this is what he wants. What they need. That anchor flickers and falls away, leaving Taylor with the wash of breath at his throat and the wide palm over his chest, holding in his rabbit-fast flutter of his heart. ]

Locus-

[ Please- his throat works around the words as he sobs, eyes clenched shut, body wound tight enough to snap and every last trembling inch, Locus'. ]

[ Now.

Those fingers withdraw, and Taylor was going to find himself tugged upwards and spun about, until his back was pressing up against cold steel, and Locus's mouth was falling over his. Fresh claim after too long without, swallowing down those pleas, while he reached for the lubricant again.

It never takes long, for him. Just the barest of attention, enough to suffice, before reaching to hitch Taylor's thigh up around his waist. It's what he said he wanted, but there's a brief pause, a chance to really look at Taylor's face, to see...

See those marks at his throat, remember how close it had been. There aren't words for what roils behind those gray-green eyes, barely contained. ]

[ Half a second to catch his breath before Locus presses it right out of him again, swallowing his muffled whine. Aching and worn raw and needy, his arms scramble to hook around Locus' shoulders, strain as he pulls himself up enough to hook is other leg around his waist. Just like Locus wanted. Just like he asked.

It all grinds to a stop for a moment. The shuttle quiet save for the odd ping from the navigation console up front, the harsh rasp of their breath in the space between them. Eyes damp and dark, lips bruised and throat blooming raw, angry red from every bite, Taylor looks a mess. Locus? Looks...lost. Angry and lost. ]

I'm here.

[ Taylor pulls himself up enough to rest their foreheads together, breathing. ]

I'm here. You got me. I'm not going anywhere.

[ Some of the tension eases out from around his eyes before they narrow, more certain. ]

No. You're not.

[ He won't let him. Won't let him be taken, because they're better than that. Taylor is better than that, and if he ever lets him think he's lost him again...

Hands settle into familiar holds at his hips, warm grooves that feel all too natural by now, before Locus surges up against him, pulls him down, feels that brief catch and initial resistance before driving home and oh. Oh.

This is his. This is going to stay his. ]

[ He needs to remember to send Barry a fruit basket or some shit. Without that referral this? This never would've been his. None of the work, eh. None of the toys? Also eh. The profit, the revenge, eh, eh.

But this. Locus. In his life as a partner, as a friend, as a kickass lover, all large hands and green eyes and fucking perfect cock with a low rumbling voice? Seriously, someone reached back to Basic and plucked out his favorite wet dream. The first thrust catches and burns but- ]

Fuck!

[ Taylor's head slams back as his nails dig in, body locking up around Locus' cock. ]

Jesus fucking christ-

[ There's a snarl at the dig of claws, and then Locus's teeth catch against his jaw with a hungry noise, and he's moving again. Thrusting up and racking Taylor back into the shuttle wall, muscles in his back coiling tense as he moved.

He can hold him like this for hours, if he cares to. But how long this lasts isn't a question. He was very specific in what he did want. ]

[ Overwhelming. Every time is as overwhelming as the first, the bulk of Locus, the heat, the intense focus narrowed down to the flex and thrust and slick obscene slap of skin against skin. Hung up like this he has no leverage and all Taylor can do is take it. Overworked skin worn raw already snaps him tense with each thrust, abs a tight clench to hold himself still.

It doesn't work, he rocks along with Locus cock, voice swinging between whisper soft obscenities or high cracked shouts as they find a rhythm. ]

[ Perfect. Perfect. Taylor starts to splinter and unravel and Locus is right there to catch him, to gather up the pieces. Catching his mouth in brief, biting kisses that drag teeth against the corner of his mouth.

All while feeling the tight clench of his body around him as he thrusts, that rhythm every bit as relentless as the one set by his fingers. Sweat catches at the nape of his neck and trickles down, skin damp under those grasping fingers, but he doesn't slow for a second.

And he doesn't look away. ]

Locus-

[ His partner, his security, his failsafe. His just as much it is the other way around and that possessive clench of a thought curls tight until it's all he can think right back, an undercurrent to the broken way his voice starts shaping yours, yours, yours in a biting, heated mine, mine, mine-

It doesn't take long. It's not so much of a lead up as a relentless assault and with the heat curling through him and those eyes pinning him in place Taylor's voice warbles, cracks on the first full throated shout signalling his downward spiral. A little more. Just a little more-]

[ He'll have it, and all that comes with it. Locus isn't slowing down, can't, needs to bear this truth into his bones until the horror and the shock give way and shake loose like a snake shedding skin. He doesn't need it. He doesn't need to worry for him because he's not going anywhere and he's his, his, his..

One hand slips between them, finding Taylor's cock and moving slick and merciless, forehead pressed against his, and there's nothing but the pounding against the wall and those stuttered breaths and shouts, and they're almost there. Come on, come on. ]

[ One touch and it's all it takes, sensation slamming through Taylor like a punch to the gut. That slick grip twisting in time with every searing thrust and it's all too much, mind spinning into blatant overload before flattening out. His world flares white as his head slams back, voice cracking around the shape of Locus' name as a scream rips free.

His nails dig in deep while that wound tight tension finally snaps, leaving him a breathless, boneless, soundless mass of twitching nerves braced against the hull. ]

[ The way those nails bite, they're going to leave marks. He doesn't care. He wants them, wants that reminder driven into his skin, somewhere it can be kept under the armor and bulk. Something they can't touch.

He isn't far behind, though he can feel Taylor start to go limp before he finds that edge. Faster, faster still, rucking him up against the wall again and again until finally going still, muscles going stretched and taut and finally, finally letting it snap and unravel.

But he stays there for a time, still holding him in place, hands smoothing over his thighs. ]

[ Unclenching his hands takes effort he doesn't know if he can spare- but Taylor tries. Smooths his fingers over the dug in marks and winces when they come away damp with more than just sweat. Damn. Harder than he'd usually-

But then all of this is. Locus going and slamming in and coming silently (like he does, Taylor makes a mental note to drag a scream out of him later) but for now he just...holds.

Is held. Floats a little. ]

God. Damn. [ He mumbles when words are a thing again, licking his lips. ] I gotta wind you up more often.

[ Sweat stings when Taylor moves his fingers over his back, but Locus does little more than rumble once, lowering his head to nuzzle beneath Taylor's jaw at those darkened marks. ]

I wouldn't recommend it.

Nah. That's a 'sometimes' trick.

[ Very much a sometimes. He drags a hand up to comb through Locus' hair, shuddering at the new ache. It hurts more, now, and the sweet worn raw feeling lingers.

It's perfect. ]

Didn't know if it'd end well this time.

Yet you saw fit to antagonize me all the same.

[ Locus huffs, and it's unclear if it's out of amusement or annoyance. Probably the latter, given his mood. But the anger is gone.

Instead, he starts to ease Taylor down onto his feet, before moving towards the various kits that have been left on board. Towels, blankets, various ways to clean up after a fight, or a post-fight fuck. ]

I like to live dangerously.

[ He shrugs, winces, and thinks better of it. That bruising on his jaw and throat will be sore and twinging for days. But he earned it, that goes without saying. A rookie mistake not to communicate with his partner.

By the time Locus lowers him to his feet his legs are mostly working, a little wobbly but leaning back against the wall helps. ]

Still. You getting all growly and possessive? That's hot.

[ Locus doesn't quite look at him then, choosing instead to move towards the kits. Collect a bottle of water each for them, and towels, for a start.

He's sweating up a storm, himself. Still panting, heart still hammering, but...he's more reassured now than he was. He can start to unclench, just a little. ]

[ He is wrung out. Rubbed raw, boneless, and ought to be by all counts some kind of exhausted. But there' Locus' back and he's still all sweaty, all dripping slick and tempting in ways Taylor just can't ignore that easily.

Once he can get his legs to work (it takes a bit but he manages) he pushes off the wall to step close. Plaster himself along Locus' back to lick at the sweat between his shoulders. ]

Not as hot as seeing you use that sword, though.

[ At that, Locus cocks his head back, a faint curl on the edge of his mouth. ]

Oh?

[ He ought to be berating him for moving around. He's going to feel a solid wreck come morning. But he knows that better than anyone. So he allows Taylor to press close with a low, contented hum. ]

[ He'll have plenty of time to recover. Days. Probably a weeks, they'll want to lay low for awhile after this.

Right now? He's got a sweaty, wound up Locus that needs soothing. Even if it's his own damn fault for winding him up in the first place. ]

Mmmhmm. I could watch you work that thing all damn day.

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