anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

"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.

Like this it's easy to drift. To let the steady thrust of Locus' cock in and out of his mouth lull him into that quiet, sweet place in the back of his mind even Delta can't quite reach. It's good, hot and gliding, lips slick and puffy and stretched wide around him and all he can taste, all he can smell? Is Locus. Not the blood that keeps them this warm and alive; just. Him.

Whoever he'd been before imprinted on his skin forever.

Then there's a click, a switch flipped and it's almost like a mouth on his cock, like pleasure pooling tight and hot and sudden in the pit of his stomach and he gags around Locus for his moaning. He pulls off with a wet pop, panting against his ribs as his hips hitch against the metal of the machine, trying to steady himself enough to finish. "Cheater-"

"Too much for you?"

Not the least bit repentant, for his part. York's earned that taste of what he feels, what's being done. They are connected after all, there's no reason not to share it with him...especially not with a reaction like that.

"Together." And a palm cups against his cheek, thumb swiping across those damp lips.

"Little warning-" Would've been nice, but there's no resentment. Just. Shuddering gasps against Locus' hip as he adjusts to the new wave of stimulation. But he's not about to complain. Not when he can bear down with his lips and suck him in and feel that happening just as much as Locus.

Not when he can stare up the long line of his body and start humming, his hands fisted in the fabric of Locus' slacks. Too much and almost enough and god, he needs. He aches and he's almost, almost there-

It's beautiful. There's no other word for it. Moonlight in his eyes and playing across his skin, and the sound of him humming down to his bones. The warmth of him splaying under his skin in a warm wave as the tension grows even tighter.

His hands stays there, cradled against the side of his face, fingers teasing the edge of his hair, as York swallows him down again. This is new, this curl of possessiveness that sits heavy but welcome inside. He lets himself move, thrusting up once, twice...

Then that tension breaks, cracks and shatters into a thousand pieces, and it's as though he can feel each one falling, bouncing against the rest before settling to the dirt. It's a ragged breath that escapes him, a low and rough noise like he might lose his breath if he had it.

There.

He feels that curl right along with everything else- a hook of something catching and pulling him to- himself? No. To Locus. This moment is theirs. He? Belongs to Locus. Locus belongs to him. It's a weird, gnarled tangle of emotion and sensation and sentiment he can't help parsing and can only ride out with every tight glide of his lips on Locus's- his- their cock.

Tighter and tighter, swallow after swallow, humming and shuddering, hips rocking against the metal under him until he simply can't bear it anymore but he can't come, caught up so tightly with Locus' pleasure. Can't come, won't come until that groan rips through him like a bullet and lets him finally go boneless.

Unaware if there's anything to swallow- he does all the same. Shudders and laps at Locus' cock to clean it, pulling off with a wet pop and whining at his own oversensitivity.

No, nothing, save the spitslick still shining on his cock when York pulls off, but the feeling is there. That trembling wave that comes after, when everything feels like a little too much. York's whine is what drags some semblance of his senses back to him, and his eyes open.

When had they closed? At some point he'd simply laid back and let it wash over him, but now? Now he reaches to draw York up to lie alongside him, to press close and let the sensation pool over them both.

He's more than earned it.

He goes easily, boneless and shivering all the way up. Part of him misses the feel of having something in his mouth afterward- something to taste, something to swallow. The rest is content with a lack of cleanup to worry about. Or. Will be once he can think straight again.

When he can move he tangles their legs together, nuzzling back into his customary spot, forehead pressed to Locus' throat. That was... intense. More than he'd expected.

It makes him wonder what the rest would feel like but for now? He basks, humming.

Locus simply folds arm around his waist. No need for words, not right at this moment. There was the cool of the night air, the stars above them, and this. A quiet moment to enjoy the echo of ecstasy in one another's presence.

More will be...interesting, to say the least. But even this much is a great deal more than he was expecting, tonight.

Uncertain if he has to- if that connection is still wide open or not- York focuses enough to let that thrumming, boneless contentment seep across their bond. He's...happy, here. Like this. He's comfortable and feels safe, settled.

That itch to be touched has been scratched thoroughly.

Tucked up like this? Wrapped around Locus? He's satisfied. Even that thirst that haunts them both doesn't feel so omnipresent.

It's a long stretch of time before the feeling begins to fade, and sensation is no longer quite so raw. It's only then that he moves, shifting his head to peer down at York by his side.

"Mm."

Words. They don't come easily, not for things like this.

"Mmm?" He blinks, eyes slowly clearing of their contented, lethargic haze. Time yet before the dawn but- what else is there to do? He feels...full in ways he can't pin down. Settled, still. It's a nice change from that itching thirst he'd had when he'd woke earlier in the night.

"Next time let's wait till we get somewhere with a bed." It's not uncomfortable but- mattresses are nice, you know. To grind against.

"Agreed. We're paying for the room, we may as well make use of it." Locus almost sounds amused, but only just. This is better. This is a great deal better than the thick, awkward tension before he decided to dispense with the formalities.

Finally he starts to shift, if only to look down a little easier at the form lain alongside him. Still quite a sight in the moonlight.

Lean muscle and tanned skin made warm by blood and exhertion, he could be lounging under the sun if not for the cool night air and silvered glint the moon brings to his eyes. Everything in his posture cants in locus's direction, a half aware curl intent on keeping close. "Probably gonna need a shower."

Get the smell of metal and cheap perfume off of him.

Edited (Blood not box) 2017-07-26 16:32 (UTC)

"Probably."

Slowly, he starts to peel himself away. Sitting up at least to retrieve his shirt, to begin straightening his clothing and putting himself away. There's no telling where his hair tie has gone, however.

Unfortunate.

Those eyes shift back towards York after a moment. "Speak when you want something. I can read your feelings, not your thoughts."

"I don't-" Want anything. It's easy to say, not so much to mean and he cuts himself off with a sigh. "I'm good. I don't need anything more than what we got."

It'd been an unexpected bonus but- boundaries. He needs to remember that they are in fact a thing and remember to respect them.

So there is more. He phrases it so, he doesn't need anything, but doesn't answer if he wants. But they've pushed boundaries enough for one night. He's able to look skeptical without prodding further, and moves instead to pull himself off of the machine.

Landing on the dirt barely stirs the dust, and he gestures for York to follow. "I think that's enough excitement for our first night on the town."

Wanting hasn't been safe for a long, long time. Need is safe and honest and usually attainable. Wanting leads...to complications more often than not. He doesn't need to want anything. He's got everything he needs.

Slipping down after Locus is simple. Silent. God the shit he could get into now if he wanted. "Yeah. Time to head home?"

"Agreed. We still have some hours before sunrise, if there's anything else you'd care to see to."

A little formal considering what had just transpired, but he's never been fluent in pillow talk. Never been a 'people person'. York doesn't seem to mind that fact, is on his feet and ready to go, and it puts him at ease somewhat.

They know each other's minds, their feelings on the matter. That's enough for now.

He hasn't casually screwed around since, well. Leaving the project. It's weird trying to find his legs socially. Locus continuing on like nothing happened? Helps more than it stings. It was a thing. It happened. It may happen again in the future but it's probably for the bet if it doesn't. Odds are if he's feeling that kind of itch he can...find someone after he's eaten.

Easy enough.

"I'm gonna some equipment if we're gonna start hooking up to random access networks; but I don't think anything's open this late and I'd rather not try my first go around of breaking and entering without the suit."

"A wise decision. We have time yet to see your plans come to fruition."

All the time in the world. He remembers it passing differently alone, of course. Having someone here ties his senses to a sense of time, the passage of it, watching as things that are connected to him tick along.

Everything before seems a dream. This is good. This partnership will be good for them both. Of course, he doesn't know York views this as a one-off quite yet. Surely, given how pleasurable it was for both of them, they would continue.

"Back to the safehouse? I've got five years of pop culture and music to catch up on." Whatever they'd been playing in the clubs had been invigorating and utterly alien. He's so goddamn behind it's not funny.

With a nod, he finishes straightening himself out and nods back towards the perimeter fence. It shouldn't take long, but there's also little need to rush. The night is a good one, and it's been some time since he's been able to walk it alongside someone.

It should be wearying but- part of what they are makes it effortless. Must come with the super speed, agility, and strength. With the city relatively calm and the road empty? All there is above them is stars. Delta quietly pings in the back of York's mind, ticking through constellations in a habitual process. Identifying where they are to sort out where to head next.

But there's no need to go anywhere but the safehouse now. No running every night for a new hole to hide in. Somewhere to stay with someone that can keep an eye out. "What happened back there anyway? How'd you end up on the wrong side of that many guns?"

"We sought a bounty on a crime lord's son. He took it poorly."

That's the shortest possible version of the story, but still essentially what brought it all about. Recklessness. He's since learned several valuable lessons, and fallen out of that business altogether.

"One of those clubs belonged to him. The new management seems to prefer a more petty line of corruption. I only counted two armed guards."

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