anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

[ 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.

[ The clamps. That gives a point of focus. The ache in his thighs, his chest, against his cock, it's all a reminder of how deep that burn goes. But even now, he doesn't shy away from it.

Instead, he turns his head, nuzzles back with a faint curve of his lips, eyes falling shut. ]

...was good, then.

[ The words are slurred, murmured quietly. ]

So damn good.

[ He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Locus' lips. The longer they sat here- well. The less he wanted to move, but they did need to move. Get Locus stretched out, get their bruises seen to. ]

I'm gonna move you up to the bunk now, OK? [ Slow, even though it's hard. Even though levering Locus' bulk isn't easy even when they're both not bruised and wrung out and sated- but he manages. Nudges carefully to stretch him out on top of the sheets- thoughtful planning when stocking up the shuttle means he can get a rag damp, a bottle of water, and a tube of medi gel for both of them without having to move from Locus' side.

Fuck yeah. ]

[ Luckily, Locus can still move. It takes a little shifting, but he gets where York is trying to move him and pushes himself up with effort onto his knees. His legs are still a little shaky by the time he rolls onto the bunk proper, head sinking to rest in the curl of his arm.

His other hand reaches quietly for any part of York he can touch, just for that sense of grounding. He's starting to come back around, by degrees, but he'd gone deep this time around. The fog wasn't so quick to clear this time. ]

[ He's never far, that'd been part of the plan- so when Locus' hand curls around his arm? Taylor turns halfway through grabbing what they need to press his lips against his skin. His shoulder, his cheek his lips. Soft and sweet and absolutely sappy- he's proud. He can't help it.

It's stupid little shit like this he doesn't really get anymore- and that's fine! He's cool with it. But having an outlet...it's nice.

Even with the momentary diversion it doesn't take long to wipe them both down. To start applying medigel on those tiny, deep bruises- but it does take awhile because his hands keep moving in between applications to smooth through Locus' hair or tangle their hands together.

Pointless little points of contact that just. Center him. ]

How you feeling?

[ Locus, for his part, accepts the attention, leaning into the kisses, allowing his fingers to curl around Taylors with a huff that could be relief. This isn't really something he allows himself normally.

Yet things are shifting. It's becoming less about outlets and necessary stress relief and simple mutual appreciation and more...well, something else. Something like real affection, something warm and binding and terrifying in its own way. But he's not afraid right now. He's tilting into those touches like a man starved as he slowly starts to rise back up. ]

Mm. A little sore, actually.

[ The corner of his mouth ticks. ]

Good sore?

[ Taylor pauses in the middle of applying medi gel to the inside of Locus' thighs, head tilted to watch the play of emotions over his face. All good, it seems. Still floating slowly, still warm, still content. That's all he needs to see to keep going, stopping only to kiss the nearest patch of unbruised skin. ]

That was...fucking amazing.

[ Thighs, groin, those two bruises on the underside of his cock, nipples. Even the welts get an even coat of medi gel before Taylor wipes his hands clean and settles on his side facing Locus, hands slipping up to comb through his hair. ]

You're amazing.

[ It's going to be a bitch in the morning. But for right now, it's perfect. Just the right amount of warm, tingling ache, though he does shiver when the gel gets to the length of his now-soft cock.

That...had been something. ]

Your doing.

[ Locus rumbles, leaning closer and catching his lips quietly with his own. It just...it feels good. Feels right. There's nothing left of the worry or tension from the mission, just this.

Them.

This is getting pretty damn serious, isn't it? When he draws back, there's a faint question to the knot of his brow. ]

I just helped get you there. You held up all on your own.

[ He'd been so careful, he had to be. This is a trust Locus hasn't ever really given out before and he'll be damned if he fucks it up. But there's more here and he...doesn't know. What that means. How much of this he gets to keep when Locus is up and he goes comfortably distant.

Doesn't know how much of this is comfortable or easy for him when Taylor knows damn well that feeling like this, for him? Is the easiest damn thing in the world.

It's what gets him in trouble. ]

Mhmm?

[ Putting it into words certainly isn't easy. Not outside the moment, where the context shifts. But he knows what he wants. He knows, to an extent, what he feels.

Rather, that he does feel. Somewhere inside that empty void he's carved out for himself something is starting to take root. He could pluck it out now, before there's time for it to develop a stranglehold.

Instead his fingers drift down, twine around Taylor's hand, thumb tracing the back of his knuckles thoughtfully. ]

...meant what I said.

[ But he has a way of looking up from under those furrow brows like it's still a question. Like he's waiting to see what Taylor does with that. ]

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