anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

[ 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.

I've gotten better with it. Bladed weapons were...never my forte.

[ But he applies himself, and things happen. Generally, people dying. But he's pleased that Taylor appreciated the sight, even if his own reaction is fairly restrained.

Mostly, he's just waiting to see what he's up to before insisting he sit and take care of himself. ]

It's an unusual skill.

[ Maybe he's still a little wound up himself. Nothing like facing down something shaped like the monster made of your friend with a rifle that could melt you to make you appreciate surviving the encounter.

Maybe he just wants a more hands on moment with Locus.

Maybe he'd been just as afraid that they'd had to split up. He can't say. What he does know is he's content to follow that line of swet down Locus' spine with his lips and tongue, gradually dropping to his knees. ]

Again?

[ There's some measure of soft incredulousness there. He'd been damn sure Taylor would have been down for some time longer. He twists about to watch him, brow raised, as his mouth slides down the curve of his back. A faint shiver shoots right up his spine, however, and he's not opposed to the idea.

Not at all. Still. ]

Edited 2016-08-26 05:29 (UTC)

Not gonna be up to riding you for like, a day, probably two.

[ Which is a damn shame but there's a whole world of things they can and have gotten up to in the interim. For now Locus gets the slide of his palms and the nip of his teeth dragging down the curve of his ass. ]

But yeah. Lemme do this for you. Call it an apology.

Mmm. Is that what this is?

[ He doesn't need to apologize further. What needs to be said has been said, in more than one way, as the marks on York's ass would clearly state. That anger had been quenched, that sense of being lost tethered and anchored again.

But, he got what he wanted. Only fair to let York have the same. ]

Mmhmm.

[ He hadn't meant to scare Locus half so bad, hadn't meant to need backup in the first place. Locus might call them good but Taylor? Wants to make it up to him more than a little.

And get some of those soft, needy sounds out of him. It's been awhile, he misses them.

His hands slide down Locus' thighs and drag back up slow, nails digging in just enough to bite as he licks the sweat trailing from the small of Locus' back, following it o his ass. ]

[ He has a preoccupation with this, with making him make noise, urging him to talk, to engage in a way that isn't purely physical. That's a boundary he's pushed since day one, in fairness. Locus can't say he didn't know what he was getting into there.

And it's taken root. He doesn't feel quite as adrift anymore, not quite so isolated. Even one other person that he can connect to is enough, is more than he had. Is it any wonder he panicked at the thought of losing that so quickly after finding it?

There's a small breath taken as Taylor's tongue sweeps against his skin, eyelids lowering. ]

[ Communication is key in any partnership- but at the beginning? Taylor found his voice hot. Low and rumbly and deep, how the hell could he not? Now that he knows what he can drag out of him it's just that much more incentive to earn those sighs.

And he is pretty well incentivized, tongue laving slow and slick between Locus' cheeks, flickering over his hole in soft, teasting laps. Warming up the skin and loosening the muscle with a steady pace while his hands settle on his hips to hold him still. ]

[ The only problem with this position is that there's no way for him respond, save vocally. There's no way to touch, to look at him, nothing to do with his hands. Instinctively they fold back behind him, as though at parade rest, so Taylor can at least see when his fingers curl into his palm. Something other than the slight shortening of his breath when that warm tongue drifts over sensitive skin.

Relaxing is easy, like this. Just letting his mind settle, focusing solely on the movement of his mouth. ]

[ That might've been the point, really. Take away potential distractions, give him something to focus on. Even if Taylor does eventually spare a hand to slip up and curl around Locus', jaw working so he could press deeper, work his tongue in tight circles until he could finally press in. Just the tip to start, shallow little thrusts while Locus' body adjusts.

Something about doing this when Locus is sweaty and salty just- clenches in the gut. Makes it that much more raw and real. ]

[ A small huff of breath slips free, almost without sound, and Locus's head tips back as he lets his eyes slide shut entirely. It's so much different than a finger, the pressure different, the feel of that warm, wet tongue wiggling its way inside. It feels vulgar in a way that twists in his gut, curls his toes, but it's good. So good.

The least he can do is take another deep breath and train himself to relax further, to let him in as far as he wants. ]

[ He does get one good, slow thrust in before grunting and pulling back, teeth nipping at the curve of Locus' ass. ]

Spread your legs a little. Or a lot. Or bend over. Whatever you're feeling.

[ His hand maintains that slow glide up and down Locus' thigh, slipping around to tease the skin on the insides with a slow drag of his nails, a careless flick near the crease where thigh meets hip. ]

[ Another huff and his hands unlock, and despite the desire to stay rooted to the spot and letting Taylor continue to drag his nails over his skin, leaving those little pinpricks of sensation trailing down his thighs...

He steps over instead towards the bunk at the other end of the shuttle, with a backward glance. It'll be easier on both of them this way.

Settling onto his knees, he knows they're going to ache by the end of this. But the leverage of leaning over onto the bunk allows him to settle his weight off of them as much as possible, and it certainly gives Taylor a far better angle to get what he's after. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject