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anothercontinuity2017-07-17 11:05 pm
agnominal) wrote in anothercontinuity2017-07-17 11:05 pm
Red vs Blue pt 2
Anything goes. Leave prompts, pictures, songs, or starters. Cross-canon, AUs, and everything else is a go.
Anything goes. Leave prompts, pictures, songs, or starters. Cross-canon, AUs, and everything else is a go.
Wanting is easy. It's an instinctual hook that rattles around and makes a man queasy and stupid. Easy to feel, easy to ignore if you've been around the block enough. Wanting Locus-
Is likely dangerous. But also? Easy.
He doesn't need to be told twice, hands sliding up into Locus' hair as he pulls himself into Locus' lap again, lips pressing against his sharply, sweetly. Not as chaste as the earlier kiss this is heated. Intent.
Is likely dangerous. But also? Easy.
He doesn't need to be told twice, hands sliding up into Locus' hair as he pulls himself into Locus' lap again, lips pressing against his sharply, sweetly. Not as chaste as the earlier kiss this is heated. Intent.
It is not quite the wanting he knew. It is not a brand upon him, a mark with which to claim rights. The heat is inviting, the intent is somehow...considerate. For all the raw carnality it promises, York still manages some scrap of sweetness.
He almost smirks to himself as he folds him inward, returning that kiss with a blunt scrape of teeth, a soft hum of approval.
He almost smirks to himself as he folds him inward, returning that kiss with a blunt scrape of teeth, a soft hum of approval.
Hey, no giving him that look, Locus. He's the one who gives Looks around here.
He's not wrong that a bigger frame helps, though, and it still makes Wash relax a little, the tense of his shoulders dropping a big when the other man pushes against him. His fingers are threaded through that dark hair and he's silent for a moment, listening to them both breathe.
It's either a bad night or a good level of trust, because after a moment Wash speaks.
"I'm just... going over all the slips in training. What would happen if it was real combat."
He's not wrong that a bigger frame helps, though, and it still makes Wash relax a little, the tense of his shoulders dropping a big when the other man pushes against him. His fingers are threaded through that dark hair and he's silent for a moment, listening to them both breathe.
It's either a bad night or a good level of trust, because after a moment Wash speaks.
"I'm just... going over all the slips in training. What would happen if it was real combat."
It's almost welcoming. A greeting. Hi, how are you, what are you into, are we gonna do this? You comfortable? Little tells and cues that he used to remember and be able to read so well- at least there's nothing vague about the drag of Locus' teeth, the way he's pulled in and all but surrounded. He smiles against Locus' lips, tongue flicking out to test the seam.
See how far he's allowed to go.
See how far he's allowed to go.
Yes, he's fine. A little surprised by this, even more so by the fact that it's happening so soon. It seems they've only just met, and yet...
They're already committed to this life together. This is natural, logically. Testing where those boundaries lie and which may be crossed. York is starved for contact and attention, and Locus isn't sure how best to provide it, but if this is his wish? It is not the worst thing in the world.
His mouth opens to him, as nails turn inward against his side, raking slowly upwards.
They're already committed to this life together. This is natural, logically. Testing where those boundaries lie and which may be crossed. York is starved for contact and attention, and Locus isn't sure how best to provide it, but if this is his wish? It is not the worst thing in the world.
His mouth opens to him, as nails turn inward against his side, raking slowly upwards.
Touch starved, socially withdrawn and suddenly given a whole new outlet? Nudging up what he is and isn't allowed was gonna be a thing. He just...didn't expect this line to come up so soon. Still he's rolling with it, licking his way into Locus' mouth slow and easy, nails digging in at his scalp.
Enough to count, not enough to hurt. He's. Not sure where Locus falls on that scale but right now? Everything is good. Sharper, more intense than it ever was when he had a heartbeat.
Enough to count, not enough to hurt. He's. Not sure where Locus falls on that scale but right now? Everything is good. Sharper, more intense than it ever was when he had a heartbeat.
Oh, how they feel. The depths to which they can feel touch, emotion, it is damn near enough to drown in if they don't learn to stay above the edges.
But it is good, unquestionably. This is not the quick touches and flirtations of the club, but something deeper. Forging that bond stronger than ever as York's tongue flicks across his lips, as he tests his lower lip with his teeth. Not enough to puncture, but to add that delicious scrape along the way.
But it is good, unquestionably. This is not the quick touches and flirtations of the club, but something deeper. Forging that bond stronger than ever as York's tongue flicks across his lips, as he tests his lower lip with his teeth. Not enough to puncture, but to add that delicious scrape along the way.
He's not worried about that- he doesn't even know he has to worry about it yet. Right now it's all- new. Sharper, sweeter, brighter- he moans against Locus' lips and drags a hand down to catch at the hem of his shirt, fingers slipping underneath to scrape up his ribs like he'd done not long ago. Mirror and repeat- that works with new partners.
But this is- he's so warm. All over, so warm, skin so smooth save for the wiry curl of hair and he smells like spice and heat and the bitter tang of salt from the club.
But this is- he's so warm. All over, so warm, skin so smooth save for the wiry curl of hair and he smells like spice and heat and the bitter tang of salt from the club.
That scrape of nails tingles, burns under the skin. They've shared fresh blood between them and that shared sense of feeling is stronger than ever. He can smell it on him, and he wants--
He wants him pleased. He wants him to stay, to continue to be pleased, and Locus himself is not unaffected in all this. Against his mouth he growls.
"Tell me what you desire."
While a hand sinks down and grasps the firm curve of his ass.
He wants him pleased. He wants him to stay, to continue to be pleased, and Locus himself is not unaffected in all this. Against his mouth he growls.
"Tell me what you desire."
While a hand sinks down and grasps the firm curve of his ass.
"You." Without any hesitation or shame. Now that he knows it's okay to want this, to act on it? He's gonna. Peeling himself away to pull his shirt off and toss it to the side feels almost impossible- but he wants everything he can wring out of this, just in case it's a one time deal. He'll worry about the details later. "However you want me."
On him, under him, hands or mouth or thighs or- whatever Locus wants? It's his. Here under the million stars overhead he can have whatever he wants and York'll give it over without batting an eye.
On him, under him, hands or mouth or thighs or- whatever Locus wants? It's his. Here under the million stars overhead he can have whatever he wants and York'll give it over without batting an eye.
No lubricant on him, but...there are ways around that. Ways to secure this, and he stares openly as York peels away his shirt, muscle gleaming in the moonlight. There are now a list of things he'd rather like to do, but practicality narrows the list down substantially.
"Your mouth, then."
Risky business with those fangs, but he trusts York to be careful.
"Your mouth, then."
Risky business with those fangs, but he trusts York to be careful.
That's all he need to hear. Some scraps of his old swagger return as he tips his head to the side licking his lips, eyes trailing Locus from mouth to navel. "You're gonna have to lose the shirt."
Not that it's in the way of the main goal but- he wants to see all of Locus. Taste all of him too.
Not that it's in the way of the main goal but- he wants to see all of Locus. Taste all of him too.
Is he now? A smirk curves the edge of Locus's mouth before he reaches for his own shirt, peeling it upwards and away with little effort.
Was this what he was after? Broad shoulders, still tanned and muscled, thick chest and that wiry hair leading in a trail downward past the waist of his pants.
Was this what he was after? Broad shoulders, still tanned and muscled, thick chest and that wiry hair leading in a trail downward past the waist of his pants.
"Goddamn-" There's so much of him. All that muscle and hair and skin just begging to be touched, nipped, to be enjoyed. He leans in, starting at Locus' throat to drag his teeth downward to his collarbone- not breaking the skin; that's not the point anymore.. The point is feeling all the possible sensations available. It's getting Locus off and enjoying him while he's got the chance.
Settled between Locus' thighs he works his way down, mouth and hands dragging over swaths of muscle, combing through wiry hair as he tongues a nipple.
Settled between Locus' thighs he works his way down, mouth and hands dragging over swaths of muscle, combing through wiry hair as he tongues a nipple.
He's clever with his mouth, isn't he? It had been a good choice, and how he's taken to it. Locus allows him to take his fill, to touch where he pleases, and at that tongue against his skin he hums quietly. One hand settles at the small of his back, stroking slow. Encouraging.
It's not as sweet or enthralling as blood- but it's just as deserving of his attention. Of all the focus he can pour into testing Locus' reactions for what he enjoys, for pulling tricks out of a bag long since set aside in favor of survival. Nails catch and glide as he drags his mouth ever downward, teeth nipping (lightly, no biting for blood) along his ribs and the skin under his navel. He twists a hand around to finesse open his belt but takes a moment to lock eyes with Locus.
And begin working his fly with his teeth and tongue.
And begin working his fly with his teeth and tongue.
"Impressive."
He's skilled. Likely had a long list of lovers before to perform for. Everything about him is certain, measured, but not so cold as calculating. Each scratch of his nails brings a fresh thrill of want down his spine, and he returns the favor, his own nails biting upwards in a long line along the curve of his back, until his fingers can cradle the nape of his neck.
He's skilled. Likely had a long list of lovers before to perform for. Everything about him is certain, measured, but not so cold as calculating. Each scratch of his nails brings a fresh thrill of want down his spine, and he returns the favor, his own nails biting upwards in a long line along the curve of his back, until his fingers can cradle the nape of his neck.
Someone else might wink. Might give a smug little smirk- but there's only the bright crackling joy of having impressed Locus that flits over their connection. Pleased that he's pleasing, careful in how he works Locus' fly open to nuzzle the warm skin revealed. It smells so strongly of him here- between the scent and the hand on the back of his neck? He's drifting.
He's hard already. For all that calm exterior, York has definitely woken something in him that wants, needs, desires. To feel his breath there, the touch of those fingers, earns another small shiver down his spine. Those eyes gleam sharp and bright as he watches him.
It's like the pull of the blood, but not quite so intense. It lingers on the outside sinking inward, warm and inviting.
"Go on."
It's like the pull of the blood, but not quite so intense. It lingers on the outside sinking inward, warm and inviting.
"Go on."
So much of him every which way. Broad chest, thick thighs, and god- He takes a careful moment to stroke Locus' cock from root to tip, eyes going half lidded and hazy. All the blood they've had and shared- he's warm. Almost alive and the thought occurs, finally, that does earn a smirk.
He doesn't need to breathe anymore.
Careful as he can be, mindful of the fangs, he licks a line up the underside o Locus' cock, swirls his tongue around the head, and sucks him down inch by inch, slowly working his way to the root with no sign of stopping.
He doesn't need to breathe anymore.
Careful as he can be, mindful of the fangs, he licks a line up the underside o Locus' cock, swirls his tongue around the head, and sucks him down inch by inch, slowly working his way to the root with no sign of stopping.
It's that slow, smooth movement of swallowing him down that finally earns him a moan. It leaves his lips unbidden as that heat surrounds him, slick and wet, and watching York work is incredible to behold.
The urge is there, to thrust, to take his mouth until he's found completion, but he didn't live this long without some sense of restraint when needed. He's doing just fine on his own, and if Locus needs to participate, he settles for kneading his fingers along the nape of his neck, spreading his thighs a little further to accommodate.
The urge is there, to thrust, to take his mouth until he's found completion, but he didn't live this long without some sense of restraint when needed. He's doing just fine on his own, and if Locus needs to participate, he settles for kneading his fingers along the nape of his neck, spreading his thighs a little further to accommodate.
This he knows how to do. It's been almost a goddamn decade, but he remembers how to relax around the intrusion, keep his tongue up tight against the underside, and power through any gag reflex he might have left. Down, down, until his nose is buried in the curls at the base of Locus' cock, eyes bright and wicked and so, so damn pleased. All of him. He's got all of him down and he can stay here, casually swallowing around Locus, until he feels like popping off.
Because he doesn't NEED to breathe anymore. How 'bout that? He smooths his hands down Locus' thighs, nails digging in to drag up in a slow scrape from knee to groin.
Because he doesn't NEED to breathe anymore. How 'bout that? He smooths his hands down Locus' thighs, nails digging in to drag up in a slow scrape from knee to groin.
Clever, clever boy.
Teeth glint as Locus grits them tight, nostrils flaring. That hot, pulsing pressure around his cock feels incredible, and he'd been so damn close just a few minutes ago with York drawing back from him. This is more than he's felt in a long, long time.
But he doesn't break easily.
He lets him sit there instead, being pleased with himself, while his hips slowly rock. Not enough to withdraw, just enough to feel the movement, the slick pressure bobbing slightly, and watching York's lips grow slick where they sit wrapped around him.
"You're...quite the sight like this."
Teeth glint as Locus grits them tight, nostrils flaring. That hot, pulsing pressure around his cock feels incredible, and he'd been so damn close just a few minutes ago with York drawing back from him. This is more than he's felt in a long, long time.
But he doesn't break easily.
He lets him sit there instead, being pleased with himself, while his hips slowly rock. Not enough to withdraw, just enough to feel the movement, the slick pressure bobbing slightly, and watching York's lips grow slick where they sit wrapped around him.
"You're...quite the sight like this."
No fair, talking when he's got his mouth full. He does try to send along a sensation of being pleased- of that warm glow a well placed compliment gives. He hasn't felt terribly attractive in a long while. Hasn't wanted to- but now? Hard to not feel some kind of phenomenal to twist this kind of approval out of someone normally so stoic.
Taylor's lips lock tight around the base of Locus' cock as he withdraws in a steady drag, teeth set in gently to offer the barest of scrapes. More sensation to earn, hopefully, more of those low groans.
Taylor's lips lock tight around the base of Locus' cock as he withdraws in a steady drag, teeth set in gently to offer the barest of scrapes. More sensation to earn, hopefully, more of those low groans.
"Careful."
Uttered even as the scrape has his toes curling. Damn. If he had a pulse, it'd be racing. As it is, that need is less throbbing and more writhing, fluid, sinuous, curling tighter and tighter as he sucks and bobs, and as Locus pulls him in.
Just like that. Just...
He lets those floodgates unlock themselves, pouring the sensations back towards York. Letting him feel as he does, how very close he is.
Uttered even as the scrape has his toes curling. Damn. If he had a pulse, it'd be racing. As it is, that need is less throbbing and more writhing, fluid, sinuous, curling tighter and tighter as he sucks and bobs, and as Locus pulls him in.
Just like that. Just...
He lets those floodgates unlock themselves, pouring the sensations back towards York. Letting him feel as he does, how very close he is.
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