anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

[ They aren't sharp enough to cut into skin, not really- but the tight clasp and points to the edges dig in enough to make it feel like that's what's going on. Taylor catches that skin between the teeth of the clamp and releases slowly, letting it sink in, pinch, and stay.

Not the tightest he's ever seen, but pretty damn close. ]

How is it?

[ The sharpness is immediate, unrelenting. He's been stabbed before, cut, he knows what it feels like, knows this isn't that, but the sharp spike is the same, and he can feel the warmth of blood rushing up under the skin as he grunts, strained.

There's a heady rush to accompany the pain, and it's hard to say which is stronger at this point. ]

[ He gives Locus all of half a second before swapping sides, going for symmetry. Another pinch, another clamp- this one closing quicker than the first. ]

These are gonna bruise like you wouldn't believe. Also?

[ He skims his fingers a few inches higher, closer to Locus' groin. ]

They usually hurt more coming off.

Edited 2016-08-27 06:31 (UTC)

[ Hard to believe. They hurt plenty now, digging in with their sharp little teeth, every one of them seemingly felt as he swallows down a thin noise and lowers his head to his arms once more.

If Taylor wants him to scream, it might be a close thing. Normally he has enough presence of mind to stop himself, enough focus, but not making noise with those digging into the soft skin of his thighs is taking nearly all of it as it is.

Talking is certainly out of the question. ]

[ Another three on each side, slowly working the line of clamps up the inside of Locus' thigh until they're just shy of far more sensitive skin- he remembers the reaction to his nipping Locus' balls. Not what he liked. But Taylor does curl his fingers around his balls to take that same yanking grip he enjoyed half so much, the other flicking open a container of lube one handed. ]

Slow breaths, man. Deep breathes.

[ His slick finger slowly circles Locus' rim, tip barely dipping inside. ]

[ It's a lot to try and process, all at once. But never once does he balk. The needle-sharp teeth have most of his attention, so much so that the grab to his balls earns a sharp noise, louder than he normally made, startled and breathless.

And then Taylor returned his attention to his hole, and Locus' back bows, and something gut-deep and needy wrenches itself free. It's good, soft and slow and slick, a stark contrast to the grip on him or the sharp burning along the inside of his thighs. Still, words won't form. They start, but they slip away all too easily. ]

[ Closer, but not quite there. Still Taylor doesn't mind moving is hand with the next clamp up, pinching right on the crease between thigh and groin before placing it there. It's no longer a gradual thing, setting the clamps. No slow bite. Just a sudden snap and sting while Taylor works his finger in slow.

While he plucks up another clamp and lets his hand slide up to Locus' nipple, fingers pinching in question. ]

[ Something in his brain whites out with that clip pinching the inner crease of his thigh, and a louder, rougher noise barks free as his back arches, uncertain whether to bend away or into the sensation.

Taylor can likely feel the way he seizes around him, and at first, the pinch to his nipple is so tame in comparison he barely seems to notice. But he doesn't say no, either.

It's a rush, something that starting to swell to overwhelming, despite his best efforts to remain grounded, rooted. ]

[ It's quick. A twist of his wrist to move from fingers to the clamp, teeth setting in at the base of his nipple and pinching harshly while Taylor's finger inside curls in deep, pressing up against Locus' prostate.

Playing him like a lock but- goddamn no lock has ever sounded this good, has ever gotten him this hard, this fast. The way he locks up around him, how he can't choose where to lean? ]

Jesus...

[ His thighs are shaking. It's subtle, but still noticable, the faint tremor as the next noise comes easier, unhindered, hitched and near-pained until York presses deep and curls tight.

He doesn't even recognize the cry that escapes as his own. So he doesn't think of stopping it. Doesn't think of anything but the bite of those teeth and the rush of heat like an electric current up his spine, and yes. He's definitely hard right now. ]

York...

[ The name comes out slurred, a slip. Wrong name, sort of, not what he wants but what's there in the forefront of his mind to be grasped. ]

I'm right here.

[ Like he could be anywhere else but knuckle deep and tense against Locus' back, watching every tremor and clench, soaking in every breathless sound. Note to self: Clamps? A+. ]

Think you can take three more?

[ Again, he palms a clamp, rolls the unadorned nipple between his fingers to get it firm and ready for pinching. Three more with his fingers slick and pressing in two at a time, rocking up against his prostate to make all this stinging pain good ]

[ It's already good. It cuts deep, touches like raw nerves, and when York sinks deep inside it's just tying all those nerves together, linking that sense of too-much until it makes sense, feels right, feels like the only possible answer to a question he'd long since forgotten.

What would get him to beg? To scream?

He isn't still, rocking slightly on his knees as though trying to push back onto his fingers, to draw him in deeper. He just needs to feel more, nothing else is coming through and he feels so...

There's a freedom to this. There's no hesitation, no restraint, no worry. Just pursuit of this, and York there at his side to push him further. To give him what he needs. ]

[ Taylor takes that as a yes, going ahead with the second clamp on Locus' nipple. From here he can't see his face- but the sounds he makes, the subtle rocking of his body, the clasp of him around his fingers? He can read the gist of how he's feeling. What is just enough and what's too much. Getting to too much (in the right way) takes a little work but-

He figures they're halfway there. ]

Look at you...

[ That same warm adoration, that same warm curling sense of possession tangles in his chest as he flicks and snaps the next clamp into place on Locus' other nipple, fingers grinding hard against his prostate at the same time. The other two... His hand slips low, palming over the head of Locus' cock, following the vein down the underside to the base where he squeezes- and pinches the skin there. ]

[ What happens is a sound like a wounded animal, though Locus is elsewhere. Things have stretched out and gone fuzzy, like he's outside of himself, save for these sharp, sheer sensations shooting through him to remind him of how very real it all is. Maybe the only thing that is real, in that moment.

The pinch of the clamps, the blade-like sharpness of those teeth, tied together with the burst of warmth and the rolling softness of Taylor's voice...he's not sure where to turn. What to focus on. His fingers dig into the cot as he pants, and he's uncertain now how much longer he can hold himself on his knees like this. ]

Nnn....

I got you.

[ Low, murmured gently into the sweat slick skin of Locus' shoulder as he rocks his fingers in deep. Something to keep Locus drifting, keep him flying while he slots himself neatly against his back, cock dragging against sweat slick skin and sandwiching between them. Nowhere near ready, his body too tight to give- but an idea is forming. ]

Sit back on your heels and lean against me.

[ Taylor loops an arm around Locus' waist to help, taking the bulk of his weight once he's settled won't be easy but- he deserves to drift- and it'll give him room to get that second to last clamp on right where he wants without having to worry about Locus' legs giving out. ]

[ Slowly, the heel of his palms digs into the cot, pushing himself upright and back, enough to feel the weight and warmth of York's frame behind him. There's no point of focus now, just feeling whatever fades in. It burns, stings, it pinches and throbs, and then those fingers will push deep and send it all fracturing apart again.

His jaw has gone slightly slack as he pants, fingers still lingering at the edge of the cot, ready to curl down tight again. Whatever comes, he knows it's going to be good, in one form or another. ]

If it's too much, say so and I'll take it off- ok?

[ It might be. He's not sure- this isn't the most intense thing he's done period- but it is a line he's tripping over with Locus. But he does it anyway, fingers stretching him out slow and slick when he sets the clamp in, pinching the skin at the base of Locus' cock. That thin web just in front of his balls. ]

[ The words filter in...yes, yes he knows. If it's too much, he can make it stop. All he has to do is say the words, and it's done. And for a split second the words nearly come, his mouth opening to form them, tongue falling still at the last moment in favor of something else entirely. ]

York...York, please.

[ He doesn't know what he's asking for, only that there's too much, far too much, and he doesn't know what to do. To pull back or push through, though his fingers knot into the cot so hard it feels as if it might tear. ]

Ok. Think you can take one more? Last one, I promise. Goddamn- you're doing so fucking good, Locus.

[ Taking this, rocking back against his fingers. Leaning into him, trusting him- this isn't as frantic as against the wall. It's not as bone deep terrified but it's an affirmation all the same. That this is his to do.

That Locus is his to hold, his to hurt- his to fuck. As careful as anything he slicks his third finger and slides it in, working Locus open in gentle rocks of his wrist and palm. ]

[ One more. He can take one more, can't he? One more of anything...more. Just...more. Enough. There's something that's being reached for here that's just within grasp and he needs. Needs, and York is going to give it to him. He just has to do good. Just take one more.

He nods. Once, twice, ceaseless, even as his head drops, breath a static mess, every inch of him awake. On fire. Centered on the pain and pleasure of it all, being full and feeling the cut of those teeth everywhere. What's one more? ]

Last one. [ The kiss he presses to Locus' shoulder is close lipped and tender compared to the bite of the clamp, not three centimeters above the last. He has more, god, he's got a whole goddamn bag but to start? After a day like this? It's more than enough.

His fingers curve sharp, grind up against Locus' prostate in a hard, unyielding pulse before he slicks himself and slides home. ]

I got you- jesus christ- You did good, so good, You're fucking perfect-

[ He's shaking, by this point. On overload, eyes stinging, but he's done it. He's done what he was meant to and York's praise washes over him even as that heat drives in, drives home, and he'd probably feel self-conscious about the noise that wells up out of him, full-throated and gasping. He sinks back against him, letting him sink in to the hilt, deep as he can go, and there's no way he can last like this.

But he can't think to hold back, to do anything but hold on. Like this, York could do anything, ask anything of him, and it'd be his.

His. Like York is his. It's fitting, isn't it? ]

So good, you did just what I wanted, I got you. I'll take care of you-

[ It's as simple and honest as that, really. As long as he can? Taylor intends to be here to help Locus. To take care of him, to ground him, to give back every shred of humanity they've managed to scrape together for him. His hands slide along sweat-slick skin in slow passes as he grinds up. No frantic, mindless fucking this time, no.

This is a slow dismantling of every coherent thought that might be left to Locus. A steady grind up and in at the angle he remembers works best. ]

Lemme hear you- [ He reaches up, tweaking one of the clamps on his chest as encouragement. ]

[ The twists earns a gut-deep cry, every inch of him going stiff and tense, tightening around York as he pushes in, opens him, leaves him quivering and gasping for air, remembering how to breathe.

Another thrusts and he damn near whites out. Another and his cock twitches, and he's so close, so very close to falling apart, and distantly he thinks he needs to hold on until he's told he can. He's been good, he can be good. ]

Let me...please, let me...

[ Contrary to those moans and cries, the words themselves are almost a whisper. ]

Let you...?

[ Cruel, a little, to slow his thrusts until Locus can find the words. Not that he stops everything- god no. He can't. That full body clench, the clasp of Locus around his cock has him shuddering, biting his bottom lip to keep quiet long enough to hear those fucking gorgeous, bone deep moans.

Fuck if it isn't worth the effort.

Careful and quick he tugs the clamps off Locus' chest to relieve the pressure. No warning, no word, just a flick of his wrist. ]

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