anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

Certain that things have cooled enough to relinquish control, Delta steps back, allowing a sheepish slump to overtake York's posture. His hands slip to Locus' shoulders to hold himself upright, fighting down the urge to comb his fingers through Locus' hair or straighten his clothing. He'll compose himself on his own. Right? Right.

"If, uh- you need." Space. Time. A quick handjob. "Anything. Lemme know?"

Though he is loathe to peel away right now, liking this look, liking a peek under Locus' usual stoic exterior.

He sees that searching stare, despite York's abashed appearance. He seems repentant enough, but there's a gleam in his eye that says he'd want more, if allowed. Like his fingers are itching to move, his lips prepared to--

Locus's eyes narrow slightly. "Such as?" He's still regaining his bearings, the world still spinning slightly and that roiling want still burning under his skin, but he'll be damned if it gets the better of him without his permission.

"Space?" First thing out of his mouth is, of course, the least sexy but most pragmatic. People need space when coming down from a high, but-

Taylor's eyes flick to Locus' lips, the hollow of his throat, his belt buckle before slipping back up. "Or, uh. Help. With that."

He's half certain there's some kind of Vampire boner going on right now and while there's still a metric fuckton they don't know about each other- you don't leave a guy hanging if you can help it. And here, he can help it- if Locus wants.

Both of Locus's brows raise higher at the suggestion. Companionship is one thing, what he's suggesting goes a bit beyond that. Then again, boundaries always seem more complex when you share as much as they do, and when so many lines that might have existed as mortals have already been crossed.

And it is York suggesting this. Locus, for his part, looks calmly considering for a moment, despite still looking a little ruffled around the edges.

"Quite the offer. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Ugh, words. Talking about shit instead of just rolling with it. An A plus way to avoid impulsive actions but discussing shit, when outside of certain required parameters while diving into shit, is...it's a quick way to make Taylor feel self conscious.

His hands drop from Locus' shoulders to his thighs, his eyes flicking askance. Ok. Awkward. "Uh. I mean-"

It's obvious he finds Locus attractive, right? They're supposed to be attractive. That's the point of what they are, of how they hunt. Should he not? He should not. This entire moment, while awesome? Had been some kind of inappropriate. Jesus christ, Taylor, get your shit together. "I'm. Just gonna-"

Ollie out. That's what he's gonna do. As soon as he can get his feet under him.

"Stop."

And he moves upward, a hand going to York's cheek to turn his head back in his direction. No, they are living together. Hunting together. What they share is beyond what any other relationship could entail.

He's not running away from this. Not this early, anyway. Those grey-green eyes lock onto his, still hazy but determined all the same. And a moment later he's leaning forward, enough to press his lips to York's.

It's light, near chaste in comparison to the bite. A test.

One word and he freezes midrise, waiting for- well. Whatever would come next. He doesn't know the rules here, aside from 'don't get attached' and 'fire and sun are bad'. Everything else is nebulous enough to be a muddled grey area and whatever they are-

Whatever they might be? He wants to sort out without fucking it up like usual, by acting first and thinking later. He swallows as his face is turned back to Locus, for the first time looking a little wary. A bite is different from a kiss.

One's...bonding. Hot, but. Bonding. One's- human and affectionate and intimate and he's still and silent and tense under Locus' hands, tipping into the kiss all the same because it's been so long. So very, very long and he's missed it.

It's still enough for him to register that something isn't quite right. When Locus draws back, his expression is carefully blank. That breathless, flushed look? Gone, smoothed over.

"You're afraid." There's a thoughtful gleam in those eyes, his thumb running just beneath York's lower lip. "Of me?"

One would think they were rather past that point.

"Or of this..."

"Disappointing you. It's- it's been awhile and I'm not all that good at divorcing physical intimacy from emotional intimacy." It's been a problem in the past. Got him in trouble more than once. This could be awesome for them or...

A terrible idea. Locus expressed reluctance earlier- he ought to respect that.

"...I don't want to make shit awkward." And in trying to avoid it, makes things...tense.

"Then don't."

There's no need for it, and neither of them should have to deal with that kind of discomfort. They can speak of it and deal with it, or dismiss it. Ultimately, whatever this is remains whatever they choose.

Locus leans close again, not quite close enough, those eyelids lowering to halfmast. "Do you want me?"

"Easier said than done-" They don't know each other well; he doesn't even know Locus' age or where he grew up or who he'd been before the bite. Doesn't know if that's relevant or not to him saving his life-

But he's close, again, with those intense eyes just. Waiting.

Taylor licks his lips- swallows. Simple question, simple answer. "Yes."

Here. Amidst evidence of past kills, barely knowing him, and he admits to wanting him. If he is a fool, at least he is a honest one.

Locus hums in response, his eyes straying over York where he sits. "Then show me," he rumbles, before a hand slips to his waist and drags York in closer.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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