anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

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.

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.

"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.

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."

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.

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