anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

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. ]

[ Instead of that sharp pull, there's now only an ache, warm and throbbing, that immediately seizes hold. Locus keens sharply, one hand flying back to grasp for York, hips still working back against him in stuttering thrusts. ]

Hurts....good. Need to...

[ The words can't string together, he knows there's something he's meant to say, but all he can do is writhe. Moan. Cant back in the hopes he understands, can give him what he's after. York will take care of him. That's all he needs to know. ]

Need, I need to...

[ God his voice. Next time he gets Locus like this he needs to be able to see his face- right now all he can do is imagine and try to match it with the memory of last time he had him like this. Cracked open and needing and desperate.

Demanding.

Entirely different from how he asks so sweetly now. Taylor doesn't have it in him to deny Locus further, lips pressing against his throat as he slips a hand down to tug the rest of those clamps on his thighs and groin free one by one until all that remain are the two at the base of his cock. ]

You've been so damn good for me, so good. You can come, lemme get you there- [ Sharp snaps of his hips up, grinding tight with every fluttering clench of Locus' body- he has to run bullshit equations in the back of his mind to hold off long enough to get Locus off first. Delta pings in to correct some mental math which is just as helpful as it isn't, christ. ]

[ The desperation is still there, tinging those breathless moans as he cocks his head back to rest against York's shoulder, and with each clip that comes free, it draws another low, loud moan from him, squirming back against him. He can come, he said he could come, he just needs to let go.

Another push against that bundle of nerves inside of him and that tenuous hold snaps, Locus's back arching with a hoarse cry that echoes off the metal walls of the shuttle. But to say it's over? No. That's just the start. He pushes past to white but his body still moves, still feels the pulse of him inside, the ache in his skin and the remaining pinch against his cock as he spills onto the cot, over his chest and belly.

Strangely, if anything, it feels like he could keep going, like he could push past again if he really tried, and his fingers tighten their hold. ]

[ What makes him beg? Overstimulation in a mix of pleasure and pain, heavy on the pain. What makes him scream?

More of the same.

Goddamn If it isn't everything he hoped for, everything he'd wondered about to have it here literally in his lap- Locus grinding back and pulling him in, all that slick heat and radiating need that pulls in deep. Hooks into Taylor like nothing he's ever had and pulls him along to fulfill as much of what Locus needs as he can manage. Now it's thrusting through that too tight clench, now it's fucking him right through that edge into too much-

But he's clinging. He's clinging and writhing back and Taylor's hand slips low to remove the first of those two remaining clamps. ]

Perfect, fucking perfect, Goddamn if you could see you right now-

[ It's far too much, it's riding the edge into more pain than pleasure, but he chases it down. Devours it, and everything else he can give him, drawing in just enough air to form a word around the agonized moan that slips free when that first clamp comes free. ]

More...

[ Still riding back, not even there but knowing he can take it, knowing that Taylor hasn't come, urging him to continue using him. Just fucking into him until he can feel the ache of it down into his bones and there is no coherent thought left to be had.

Just that one, strained, desperate plea. ]

[ Last clamp, last bruise- Taylor tugs it free with a flick of his wrist, slick palm cradling Locus' cock afterward in an almost protective grip. New bruises all over, beautiful against dark skin, and it has to hurt, it has to ache, this has to be too much-

And he asks for more.

Goddamn if part of Taylor isn't a little in love with him for that. Just a little.

He curls tight, forehead pressed to Locus' cheek, hips snapping up hard and high on instinct, all finesse lost as that heat curls tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach. All he can feel or breathe or taste or think is Locus. That voice, this salt, the overwhelming clench of his body- one last sharp thrust and he groans, muffling the sound in the side of his throat, shooting hot and deep inside. ]

[ His heart is still hammering in his ears, and it's difficult to isolate any one sensation. The bruises, the burn in their wake, the feel of that heat spilling inside of him or the cooling stickiness on his own still. The warmth of Taylor's breath against his throat. There aren't words for what he feels, so far removed from that first instance of nearly slipping away the first time. He's deep, deep down, and all he can do is sag back against Taylor, still faintly rocking his hips, just to have somewhere to displace this mad rush of energy.

It'll fade, but in the moment he feels far too much to be still or silent. ]

[ As soon as words are a thing (it doesn't take long, he can't leave Locus without some kind of verbal grounding and knowing that kicks him back into coherent thought pretty damn quick) he mumbles. ]

I'm here, I got you, you did amazing. [ Soft, nonsense words, gentle praise and open affection. It's probably the only time he could get away with, well. Any of it. ] So damn good for me.

[ Gently he presses soft kisses to Locus' shoulder and neck while winding down, hands smoothing over those new bruises to feel out the extent of the damage. Medi gel is gonna have to be a thing for sure. Hell, he'll probably need some and as soon as Locus is leveled out? He'll let him take care of him like he meant to before Taylor got them both pretty well distracted. ]

Take it easy. Tell me what you need and I'll take care of you.

[ His breath hitches as those fingers stray over the bruises -- they still ache, the sharpness far from forgotten, raw to the touch -- but the only answer comes in the form of a muted hum that seems more question than acknowledgement.

Water should probably be a thing. Medi gel. Touch. Somewhere to lie down and let these shivers work their way out. But he's still swimming, eyes partially open but not really focusing on anything for the moment.

He knows he's warm, that York is there and he's done well. The gentle kisses, the soft words, they'd normally hold no benefit to him, something to shrug off or be puzzled by. Instead, he simply soaks it in, surprised by just how good the simplest of gestures can feel. ]

So proud, you didn't even flinch- [ Tense, writhe, cry out? Shit yea. But no instinctual flinching from the pain. He'd been flying too high, sinking too deep for shit like that but it doesn't make it any less impressive. Everything about Locus like this is incredibly impressive, how much he takes, how much he gives.

How he drifts so sweetly. Taylor noses up under his ear, continuing his soft litany of praise and admiration as his hands slide in soothing passes along bruised skin. ]

Meanest damn clamps I've ever bought and god, the way you took them? Gorgeous.

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